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A Strange Meeting. Page 191 






THE 


SOLDIER’S WARD; 

OR, 


SATED FOB MABTYEDOM. 

A SEQUEL TO “WALTER HARMSEN.” 

/ 



E. GERDES. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE DUTCH ( WITH CHANGES 
AND ADDITIONS) 



BY 

Rev. DANIEL VAN PELT. 

I 


/ 

r 

PHILADELPHIA : 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION 
AND SABBATH-SCHOOL WORK, 

No. 1334 CHESTNUT STREET. 


/a'?-Vdpvriqw;’ . • 


FCi 



COPYRIGHT, 1887, BY 

THE TRUSTEES OF THE 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION. 


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 


Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers and Electrotyjters, Philada. 



CONTENTS. 


CHAPTEE I. 

PAGE 


A Dealer in Fine Linen 16 

' CHAPTER II. 

The Soldier’s Ward 25 

CHAPTER III. - 

A Living Man-Trap 35 

CHAPTER IV. 

Philip Marnix of St. Aldegonde . 45 

CHAPTER V. 

A Great Man at Home 55 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Steward’s Payment 62 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE 

The Ring and the Girdle 70 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Dealer in Fine Linen Explains Himself ... 79 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Cabin in the Sandhills 91 

CHAPTER X. 

A Letter from Abroad 103 

CHAPTER XI. 

At the Siege of Steenwyk 114 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Mysterious Reminder Once More 122 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Bearding the Steward in his Den 132 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Ominous Words 141 

CHAPTER XV. 

An Awakened Conscience 152 


CONTENTS. 


5 


CHAPTER XVI. 

PAGE 

The Mystery Unfolded 163 

CHAPTER XVH. 

A Ride through the Forest 176 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Sheriff and his Prisoners 187 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The End of the Wicked 196 

CHAPTER XX. 

From Darkness to Light 206 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Escaped from the Inquisition 220 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The Jesuit and his Tools 229 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Preparing THE Snare 240 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Doctor and Patient . 250 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

PAGE 

A Mother’s Letter 263 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

A Midnight Appointment 276 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Diamond Cutting Diamond 286 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Apothecary Outwitted 297 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Prison op the Inquisition 303 

CHAPTER XXX. 

A Mother’s Death-Bed 313 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

A Loaf of Bread 323 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Working by Night 335 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

The Rescue Interrupted 343 


CONTENTS. 


7 


CHAPTEK XXXIV. 

PAGE 

The Jesuit again in Use 355 

CHAPTEK XXXV. 

Memories of the Past 362 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Between Heaven and Earth 370 

CHAPTEK XXXVII. 

The Jesuit Assaulted 377 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Antoine Reaches his Friends 387 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

The Battle in the Forest 394 

CHAPTER XL. 

Together in Death 402 



TRANSLATOE’S NOTE. 


The period in the history of the Eeformation in 
Holland of which the following tale treats is some- 
what later than that usually illustrated in works of 
this kind or in actual histories. We have now 
reached a time when the republic of the seven 
northern provinces was firmly established. Though 
still at war with Spain, it was no longer a life-and- 
death struggle. The republic was gaining in strength 
and in wealth, while Spain was fast and irrecover- 
ably losing in both. At the same time, the Reformed 
Church was acquiring more and more the character 
and position of a State-Church, and not without 
some of the evils which usually accompany State- 
Churchism. Many grew to be at ease in Zion or 
only in a perfunctory and lifeless manner cherished 
the convictions of the Reformation. There grew 
to be less depth of conscious religious feeling and 
a lack of Christian earnestness. These evils none 


10 


TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 


but the spiritually-minded discerned and lamented. 
Men of piety, such as our evangelist and the illus- 
trious patriot whose name occurs in these pages, 
strove, although by different methods, to avert 
them. 

In the course of the following story an instruct- 
ive contrast is presented between the condition of 
the northern and southern provinces on the matter 
of religious enlightenment. While the Reformation 
had obtained an immovable footing in the northern 
provinces and religious tolerance was the portion 
of all sects in Flanders, Brabant and the sister- 
provinces, now embraced in the kingdom of Bel- 
gium, Rome was not only influential, but domi- 
nant, and as intolerant as ever. Hence it is not an 
anachronism to introduce the Inquisition as in force 
there as late as the year 1609, when such a name 
was almost forgotten in the North. There had 
been, therefore, very little advance in these parts 
since the days of the placard of Charles V., and 
an actual retrogression since the petition of the 
Beggars Qes Gueux\ in April, 1566, when noble- 
men of either faith could protest against the mon- 
strous institution. 

A last point to be noted is that this story intro- 


TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. 


11 


duces us to some of the questionable practices and 
machinations of the famous order of the Jesuits. 
The rise of this order — although, of course, directly 
productive of indefatigable laborers in the cause of 
Rome — may yet be attributed indirectly to the Ref- 
ormation. It originated in the desire to counteract 
this overwhelming assault against Romanism, and 
Loyola has been not unjustly compared by a bril- 
liant essayist and historian with Luther. Indeed, a re- 
semblance in many points of character and of pur- 
pose may successfully be traced. The presentation 
of one of these Jesuits engaged in a design quite in 
keeping with the Jesuitical modes of operation for 
serving the interests of the papacy may well be 
deemed instructive. It will help to call attention 
to all the effects and influences exerted by the Ref- 
ormation upon the age wherein it occurred. 

The character of Antoine Moreau is not en- 
tirely a fictitious one. In the Great Booh of Mar- 
tyrs — which contains, in the Dutch language, a rec- 
ord of the martyrology of the Netherland provinces 
— we find an account of one ‘^Antonins Moreau, 
born at Monne, a village not far from Courtray, in 
Flanders,’’ who was persecuted for his faith. He was 
confined at Tournay, in the bishop’s prison, where 


12 


TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 


he was kept for many years and subjected to great 
suffering.” When it became evident that all their 
cruelties could not move Moreau from his steadfast- 
ness, the inquisitors “let him finally die of starvation. 
The clerical authorities of Touruay caused the re- 
mains to be buried under the gallows of a village 
situated within the bishopric, about a mile from the 
city.” These incidents accord sufficiently with those 
of the tale. The greatest discrepancy is one of 
dates; the true date of Moreau’s death is Janua- 
ry, 1601. The author has remained rigorously true 
to history. The alterations ventured upon by the 
translator shift the year to 1609, but the variance 
from fact is borne out, we trust, by poetic (or ro- 
mantic) license. 

The change introduced by the translator is simply 
this : In the original the story is in two parts, under 
different titles. The foundling of the first part is 
not reproduced in the second. Yet why all that 
elaborate plot about a child of which nothing more 
is heard afterward ? It was therefore thought best 
by a few easy alterations to make the youth Antoine 
Moreau of the second part identical with the “ sol- 
dier’s ward ” of the first, thus giving unity to the 
whole story. 


TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. 


13 


During the summer of 1886 we spent a Sab- 
bath at Leyden. We walked along the very road 
traveled by Walter Harmsen and Joris Ruik- 
mans. A little distance from the city we saw a 
country-seat with a very long lane of beech trees, 
so that the house beyond was hardly visible. On 
inquiry we found that this was formerly occupied by 
Philip of Marnix and had remained in possession 
of his descendants till within fifty years ago. Pur- 
suing our walk farther on, we came to the road or 
lane crossing the highway to The Hague and running 
from Yoorschoten to Wassenaar; it is still called 
the Papen Weg,^’ or Popish road.” Arrived at 
Wassenaar, we attended church, the service being 
finished about four o’clock, the time set for the 
beginning of Walter’s preaching in the barn. In 
the morning we had attended church in St. Peter’s 
at Leyden (where John Robinson, the Puritan pas- 
tor, lies buried), and by a strange coincidence the 
preacher’s text was that passage in Revelation which 
contains the subject of Walter’s sermon : Fine 
linen is the righteousness of saints.” After at- 
tending church at Wassenaar a walk of about half 
an hour brought us to the sandhills, which rise and 
fall in bold ridges and deep valleys, stretching to 


14 


TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 


the sea-coast, a distance of four miles beyond ; we 
saw several little buildings which reminded us of 
Hugh’s wretched hut in the sandhills. Returning 
to Leyden, we noticed along the road to Voorscho- 
ten thick bushes beneath the trees that line the high- 
way on either side ; the Jesuits’ hireling could easily 
have hid himself from observation among them. 
Finally, we looked up the Mare gate, near which 
lived the Widow Van Hyk ; it is now a mere name, 
for the gate itself has been removed. It was ex- 
ceedingly pleasant, with the incidents of this story 
in our minds, to make visits to these several points. 
It is in the hope that a more vivid interest may be 
awakened in the minds of others who may read 
these pages that an account of these personal ob- 
servations has been introduced in this note. 

D. V. P. 


The SOLDIER’S Ward. 


CHAPTER I. 

A DEALER IN FINE LINEN 

I T was the autumn of the year 1598. The sun 
was near his setting. A flood of golden light 
irradiated the western sky, affording a brilliant 
background to the sombre hues of the lofty oaks 
and beeches of the forest. The air was very mild ; 
and had not the variegated tints of the foliage re- 
minded one that it was the mouth of October, it 
might readily have been supposed that the summer 
had not yet departed. The unusually fine weather 
had tempted many persons to walk out into the 
country, although it was Saturday evening, which, 
according to the venerable custom of Holland, was 
sacredly observed as the preparation for the Lord’s 
day. 

It was in the immediate vicinity of the city 
of Leyden that we notice this delightful autumn 
weather prevailing. It is not, however, the Ley- 
den of this nineteenth century to which we invite 


16 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


the attention of the reader, but as it appeared in 
1598. Quite recovered from the effects of its 
terrible and long-continued siege sustained in 1574, 
the city enjoyed, at the time our tale opens, secure 
repose not only, but the most signal prosperity. 
This was due as much to its world-famous univer- 
sity, granted in reward for its heroic sufferings, as 
to its numerous manufactures, which, indeed, were 
no less celebrated. The so-called “draperie” in- 
dustry furnished a comfortable sustenance to hun- 
dreds of artisans, such as skin- washers, skin- 
dressers, weavers, combers and fullers.” These 
people to a great extent hailed from foreign parts, 
mostly from the provinces of Brabant and Flanders, 
having fled thence to escape the ever-increasing per- 
secutions by the Spanish authorities. And glad- 
ly did the corporation and the good burghers of 
Leyden welcome these refugees. They recognized 
them as their brethren persecuted for the faith 
which they themselves held dear, and they further- 
more wisely considered that by their settlement in 
the Dutch republic the commerce and the industrial 
arts of the southern provinces would be transferred 
to the North. Leyden, which had been so deeply 
afflicted and so nearly ruined, especially needed the 
prosperity which the residence in her midst of these 
skilled artisans might well be expected to secure for 
her. The city had not been disappointed in her 
expectations, and with grateful acknowledgment 


A DEALER IN FINE LINEN. 


17 


of God’s good providence many an ancient chron- 
icler of Leyden records the flourishing condition 
and the growing wealth of the place. Leyden, 
then, in the year 1598 enjoyed God’s favor in 
abundant measure; and could the reader have 
visited the city at that time, he would have been 
surprised to see the stir of the busy crowds and the 
multitude of merchants ofiering their goods for sale 
in the different markets or in their stores. 

On the above-mentioned Saturday afternoon the 
streets and the suburbs seemed unusually thronged. 
The regular weekly market-day ” — which at that 
time was held upon the new cattle-market, situated 
near the new Haarlem gate” — had closed some 
hours ago, but many merchants still lingered here 
and there, looking over their accounts, packing their 
wares, counting profits or exchanging money, while 
others — farmers from surrounding villages — were 
hitching their horses to their wagons. Add to these 
the respectable burghers who after the day’s occu- 
pations had betaken themselves to the meadows and 
the pleasure-grounds outside the walls to enjoy a 
hearty game of ball or bowling or to take advan- 
tage of the exceptional weather for an evening 
stroll, and you will have some idea of the busy 
scene that would have greeted your eyes upon 
that Saturday evening. 

We will not, however, remain among these crowds 
of happy men, women and children, nor pay a visit 
2 


18 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


to the places of amusement situated just outside 
the Hoogewoerts gate, upon the Broerspadt road. 
On the contrary, let us follow a dignified pedestrian 
whom we see leaving a house in the Nobel street. 
Passing by the town-hall and the meat-market, he 
continues along Broad street to the North End.’^ 
Arrived there, he leaves the White gate on the left, 
and, walking around the old redoubt called the 
Pelican,’^ he reaches the bank of the Rhine. Find- 
ing a rowboat conveniently near, he rows across the 
river to a footpath leading up the grassy shore 
to the high-road that connects Leyden and The 
Hague. 

After our pedestrian has proceeded about a mile 
he observes not far from him a person who ap- 
pears exhausted, for he is seated upon the ground 
and leaning against a mile-stone. Approaching 
closer, our friend is surprised to notice the ex- 
ceedingly short stature of the weary traveler ; and 
when by the declining rays of the sun he succeeds 
in making out the mauikin’s features, it strikes him 
that he has met the man before. 

Good-evening, friend,’’ said he to the dwarf, 
who had arisen at his approach ; you seem tired.” 

“ So I am, worthy sir,” replied the other. I 
have walked many a step to-day, and I expect it 
will be two hours yet before I can get to bed, if I 
get under cover at all.” 

Must you reach The Hague to-night ?” asked 


A DEALER IN FINE LINEN 


19 


the first traveler, as side by side the two proceeded 
on their way. 

^^No, not to-night. I stay over-night near 
Voorschoten, rest there to-morrow, then the day 
after go on to The Hague, where I live.’^ 

“Why are you afraid you will not get under 
cover to-night?^’ asked his companion. 

“ So many dangerous characters infest the high- 
way, sir, especially at night.” 

“Do you fear them?” was the somewhat re- 
proachful rejoinder. “ Do you not know that the 
Saviour said, ^ Are not two sparrows sold for a far- 
thing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground 
without your Father. Fear ye not therefore, ye are 
of more value than many sparrows ’ ?” 

“True, sir,” replied the little man, meanwhile 
changing from one shoulder to the other a small 
bundle that seemed quite heavy. “That may be a 
very excellent thing to think of, but nevertheless 
I cannot help remembering that a well-to-do mer- 
chant was attacked and robbed near this very 
spot.” 

“ The more reason, then, that you, now that you 
are exposed to a similar danger, should put your 
trust in the Lord.” 

“ That may be true. But do not supj)ose, sir,” 
said the manikin, “that I am afraid. No; so sure 
as my name is Joris Ruikmans — and I was chris- 
tened thus on St. Martin’s day in the year ’47 — I am 


20 


THE SOLDI ER^S WARD. 


not a bit afraid ; but if I can avoid danger, I do 
so.” 

“ You are right in that, my friend,” replied his 
companion, who had attentively listened as he gave 
his name ; you must not wantonly run into dan- 
ger, and you need not fancy that you are doing so 
here upon this highway and at this hour.^^ 

But I have some hours yet to spend on this 
road,” said the little man, again changing the bun- 
dle, and it will soon be dark. Do you go much 
farther, sir?” 

“ No ; I expect to reach my destination in about 
ten minutes,” replied the other. 

I wish I were as fortunate as you are ; but what 
must not a man undergo to earn a few pennies !” 

Ah ! then you are a peddler ?” rejoined the oth- 
er, regarding the manikin with no little astonish- 
ment. 

Rightly guessed, sir. I was not exactly born to 
it, for I was formerly quite otherwise employed, 
but, now that I am once a peddler of ribbons and 
garters, I know how to manage pretty well. Are 
you a merchant or a dealer in any kind of goods ?” 

Yes,” responded our friend. 

^^What kind of wares do you sell, if I may 
ask ?” 

I deal in fine linen, and hope to dispose of a 
goodly quantity to-morrow.” 

The little man came to a sudden halt, and, re- 


A DEALER IN FINE LINEN 


21 


garding the speaker in blank amazement, he stam- 
mered, 

Am I, then, mistaken 

How so ?” inquired our pedestrian, smiling. 

I thought you were a Reformed preacher of 
Leyden or elsewhere, since both your dress and 
your words of a moment ago when you reminded 
me of Heaven’s assistance made me suppose so.” 

Well, if I am a preacher, what then?” 

Then I should much doubt your sincerity ; for 
though my name is Joris Ruikmans — and as such I 
have been baptized and brought up, as my fathers 
before me, in the true and saving Church — I have 
too much common sense to think that a good Re- 
formed preacher would be so inconsistent.” 

What, in your opinion, is ‘ a good Reformed 
preacher’?” queried our friend, still smiling. 

‘^That — just now leaving his faith out of the 
question — he will not so far forget his office as to 
become a dealer in fine linen, and especially that he 
will not offer his goods for sale on the Sabbath. 
Our priests are not so particular about Sundays, 
and are satisfied if we only respect the holy-days ; 
but the Reformed Church, which does not observe 
any saints’ days, is very strict in requiring the ob- 
servance of the Sabbath. Am I wrong in this, 
sir?” 

No, you are not wrong, friend,” was the reply. 

The Reformed Church has declared in her Con- 


22 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


fession — which, as I believe, is founded upon God’s 
word — that her members shall upon the Sabbath- 
day diligently repair to the house of God to hear 
the preaching of the gospel, to partake of the sac- 
raments, to call on the name of the Lord, and to 
minister to the necessity of the believing poor. I 
am of the conviction, also, that every Christian, to 
whatsoever Church he may belong, is under equal 
obligation to — ” 

Yet you who thus speak,” interrupted the man- 
ikin — you yourself intend to engage in trade to- 
morrow, Sunday?” 

Yes, and, as I told you, to dispose of some fine 
linen.” 

Are you not a Christian, then ?” 

Yes, by God’s grace,” replied the other. 

“And at the same time one who will trade in fine 
linen to-morrow ?” repeated the little man, with 
growing astonishment. 

“Yes, and I would like to dispose of some of it 
to you. Could you be at Wassenaar to-morrow 
afternoon ?” 

“ I think I could,” replied the dwarf. 

“ Well, if you can, be there about four o’clock, 
inquire for Walter Harmsen — ” 

“ ^ Walter Harmsen ’ !” exclaimed the other, and 
checked himself again, still more amazed. “Are 
you Walter Harmsen?” 

“ Yes ; that is my name.” 


A DEALER IN FINE LINEN. 


23 


The evangelist who travels and preaches 
throughout the land?” 

The same.” 

“ Did I not often meet you near Utrecht twenty 
years ago ?” 

Yes, Joris,” replied our friend, whom we have 
now learned to know by his name. I recognized 
you at once, and was only waiting for a favorable 
opportunity to make myself known to you.” 

It was impossible for Walter Harmsen to proceed 
a step farther, with such fervent cordiality did the 
little man seize and press both his hands and such 
was the torrent of questions that broke from his 
lips. For, indeed, much had happened during this 
interval of nearly twenty years since last they met, 
and on Walter’s side, too, there was no lack of 
curiosity and interest in regard to the fortunes of 
little Joris. We shall not weary the reader with a 
detailed account of the questions and answers that 
passed between them, but give our own version of 
the events that they related to each other. 

We left Joris Ruikmans still in the service of 
Father Baldwin, whose labors as librarian were at 
Lord Gerard’s urgent desire transferred from the 
monastery to Vlooswyk castle. After the death of 
the venerable man Joris had left the castle, and 
after much wandering and uncertainty had finally 
settled in The Hague, where he married and set up 
trade in a small way in thread, garters and other 


24 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


dry goods, or notions,’’ his wife managing the lit- 
tle shop while he peddled the goods. Lord Gerard 
van Vlooswyk, after a brief sojourn in the province 
of Utrecht, had with his wife and daughter taken 
up his residence in France ; for his health, shattered 
by his long imprisonment, demanded a permanent 
abode in a milder climate. Walter Harmsen, as we 
know, though drawn by many ties of affection and 
regard to the inmates of the castle, could not resolve 
to settle down to do ministerial work in some parish 
near Vlooswyk, being moved by an irrepressible 
longing to traverse the length and breadth of the 
laud in the capacity of evangelist. Nor could he 
be induced to leave the country when the nobleman’s 
family departed for France. Still, a tolerably reg- 
ular correspondence was maintained between them, 
and there was some prospect that before long Lady 
Jacoba would visit her native land. Within a few 
months Walter had taken up his residence in Ley- 
den for the double purpose of pursuing some special 
studies in certain lines of doctrinal theology and 
of giving himself to the work of preaching the 
, gospel in country places in the vicinity, where he 
had discovered much lingering superstition and 
much ignorance of real saving truth. He was in 
the habit of holding services in private houses or 
barns in localities where churches were as yet 
lacking. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 

‘^TT7ERE you not saying, Mr. Harmsen,” in- 
» ^ quired Joris when they had again proceed- 
ed on their way, ^Hhat you expected to dispose 
of some fine linen at Wassenaar to-morrow?’’ 

That is what I said and meant, Joris,” replied 
Harmsen, smiling. 

^^On Sunday?” 

^^Yes, precisely — on Sunday. That is the pe- 
culiarity of my trade : I have the greatest number 
of customers on that day, although, unfortunately, 
there are always more lookers-on than purchasers.” 

“ I must say,” answered Joris, taking his little 
package under his arm, “ that I do not at all under- 
stand you.” 

Then I can give you no better counsel than to 
be at Wassenaar to-morrow afternoon at four o’clock, 
at the house of the wagonmaker Ledeganck. Will 
you be there ?” 

I shall certainly be there,” replied Joris, decis- 
ively ; for, really, I am curious to know how a 
Reformed preacher can sell fine linen on Sunday.” 

25 


26 


THE SOLD I EH S WARD. 


Well, you shall see. Perhaps I am speaking 
to you in riddles, but I trust you will find them 
solved to-morrow. It is with this as with all spir- 
itual things, which can be discerned only by the 
initiated — that is, by those who are God’s children. 
It is even as the Saviour himself said: ‘I thank 
thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because 
thou hast hid these things from the wise and pru- 
dent, and hast revealed them unto babes.’ ” 

Your wwds,” observed Joris, remind me of a 
certain officer who lives in my neighborhood and is 
in the habit of speaking much as you do. I can 
hardly enter upon any conversation with him but 
he has something to say to me about the Saviour.” 

I know what officer you mean, Joris : it is my 
old friend Dirk Gapertz, now retired from the army. 
I see him occasionally. When did you last meet 
him ?” 

Hardly a week ago, Mr. Harmsen.” 

Was he in good health?” 

^‘The major complained much of pains in his 
right leg.” 

Yes ; no wonder ! His right foot was shot off 
by a cannon-ball about six years ago at the siege of 
Steenwyk. Besides, since that he was wounded in 
his shoulder, and he has not quite recovered from 
the effects of this ; so that he is a real invalid.” 

But the major is always in excellent humor and 
most of the time looks as happy and cheerful as a 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


27 


child to whom some great good fortune has just 
happened. I cannot comprehend this. Formerly, 
indeed, I had something of this myself, but since 
my cares have increased with the years it seems to 
me as if I had left all my lightheartedness behind 
me in Utrecht, and the future sometimes looks pret- 
ty dark.” 

am sorry that is the case with you, Joris. 
The major cannot be without his anxieties and 
cares ; he has no independent means, but must get 
along with a limited pension as a retired officer. 
But have you ever reflected how it happens that the 
major can always be of such good cheer, while you 
worry about so many things ?” 

I confess, Mr. Harmsen, that I haven’t given 
it any thought.” 

Then I will tell you, Joris : the major is 
assured of salvation and that a better life awaits 
him.” 

But how can he be assured of that, Mr. Harm- 
sen, before he has obtained full absolution? Or 
do you teach this assurance in your Beformed 
churches ?” 

“ It is the teaching of Scripture, Joris. The in- 
fallible word of God assures every sinner that Jesus 
Christ came into the world to save him, and that 
whosoever believeth on him hath eternal life. What 
you call ‘ absolution,’ and which your priests pre- 
tend to be able to give you, is nothing but the blood 


28 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


of Jesus, by which we are cleansed from our sins. 
This the major believes with all his heart, and 
therefore he cheerfully faces the future, knowing 
that through Christ he has a part in the eternal 
life.’^ 

He has more than once told me this himself, 
Mr. Harmsen. But still I do not see how this can 
be. No matter how much I may desire to enjoy 
this same assurance, I know of no way by which 
to obtain it.^’ 

There is a very simple way, Joris, open to you, 
and to every one of us. I am afraid you do not see it 
because you depend a little too much upon what the 
priests tell you about God’s teachings of salvation 
and do not look into them for yourself to discover 
what they really are. As to your worrying about 
earthly matters, it is not strange that you do so 
while you reverse the command of God.” 

‘‘How so?” inquired Joris, somewhat surprised*. 

“ The Lord Jesus says, ‘ Seek ye first the king- 
dom of God and his righteousness, and all these 
things ’ — that is, earthly, temporal things, of which 
Jesus had been speaking — ‘shall be added unto 
you.’ Just try this; do not give your first and 
only thought to matters of earthly concern, but 
believe that God loves you and will care for you, 
and you will have peace instead of trouble.” 

Thus conversing, the two pedestrians had come 
opposite an open gate that gave access to a lane lined 


THE SOLDIER 'S WARD. 


29 


on each side with beech trees and leading to a small 
country-seat just visible in the dim twilight. Wal- 
ter Harinsen here arrested his steps and remarked 
to Joris, 

‘‘This is my destination, friend Joris.” 

“ This V’ replied the latter. “ Is not this the 
residence of Philip of Marnix, lord of St. Alde- 
gonde 

. “ It is,” assented Harmsen. “ The venerable 
statesman and bosom-friend of William the Silent 
occupies this little country-seat in the summer, 
though iu the winter he lives at his house in Ley- 
den. But how did you know that Lord Marnix 
resides here? Are you acquainted with him?” 

“No, not yet, Mr. Harmsen,” replied Joris, 
“but I hope shortly to have an opportunity of 
paying him a visit.” 

“You?” exclaimed Walter Harmsen, in great 
astonishment. 

“Yes, /,” answered Joris, lifting himself to his 
full height. “Are you so surprised that such a little 
man as I am should have access to so celebrated a 
nobleman ?” 

“ No ; that does not surprise me in the least, for 
Lord Marnix is a humble man not at all proud 
of his birth, his great accomplishments or his cel- 
ebrated deeds. But I would gladly know your 
relations with Lord Marnix, and, although my 
engagements as well as yours perhaps are pressing. 


30 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


may I ask you, if I am not too impertinent, to ex- 
plain this to me 

‘‘Very gladly will I do so, Mr. Harmsen. I 
have already informed you that Major Grapertz and 
I are on somewhat intimate terms. Our acquaint- 
ance not only dates from our meeting in Utrecht 
—of which you know — but has been especially 
close within the last six years. You must know 
that I have in my charge a ward of the major’s,’^ 

“ Indeed ! I remember my friend speaking of 
some such child in which he had taken an interest, 
but I cannot say that I exactly recall the circum- 
stances that placed it under his care. Will you re- 
peat these to me 

“ Certainly, Mr. Harmsen. During the siege of 
Steenwyk by Prince Maurice, the Spanish general 
Verdugo succeeded in throwing a small reinforce- 
ment into the city, but only after being seriously 
crippled by the States’ troops. The rear-=guard of 
the detachment which brought the enemy this re- 
inforcement was attacked by troops under Baron 
Jacob van Marnix and Major Gapertz, who were 
charged with cutting off Verdugo’s men, and a 
number of Spanish and Flemish soldiers were 
made prisoners. Among these prisoners was found 
a child of about three years of age ; no one knew 
how it came to be with the soldiers. After many 
unsuccessful attempts to ascertain who were the par- 
ents of the child — which could utter only a few 


THE SOLDIER WARD. 


31 


unintelligible words — the major resolved to adopt 
it, with the consent of the prince, while Baron Ja- 
cob also agreed to contribute toward the expense of 
bringing it up. When he returned to The Hague, 
the major requested my wife to act as its foster- 
mother, which with the greatest willingness she 
consented to do.” 

But I do not understand,” said Walter Harm- 
sen, how the major, who is zealously attached to 
the Reformed Church, could give the child in 
charge to you, who, as I learn from your own 
words, do yet belong to the Roman Catholic 
Church.” 

I can soon explain this,” said Joris. “ Not long 
after our marriage my wife went over to the Re- 
formed Church, which I gave her entire liberty to 
do; for each one must believe as he thinks best. 
She was chosen as foster-mother not so much by 
reason of my acquaintance with the major, but 
more on her own account. She was formerly in 
the service of Baron Jacobis father in-law, and 
Lady Veronica was very fond of her; hence both 
gentlemen resolved to entrust the care of the child 
with her. She is greatly attached to it, and herself 
presented it for baptism.” 

Indeed ? Then she must take charge of its spir- 
itual welfare as well as of its bodily comfort ?” 

^^Yes, Mr. Harmsen,” answered Joris. ‘^My 
wife is so thoroughly Reformed in her faith that 


32 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


she could not endure the thought of bringing up 
the child without Reformed baptism, for she sus- 
pected that it was of Roman Catholic parents. 
Accordingly, it was baptized in the Klooster church, 
at The Hague, in the presence of the major, Baron 
Jacob and Lady Veronica, while their youngest 
daughter gave a name to the little one.” 

Tlien its name is Walburg ?” 

No, not that exactly, Mr. Harmsen,” laughed 
Joris. It was slightly changed, so that the full 
name reads Walburgius Steen wyk, after the city 
where it w^as found. But, although it has half a 
girl’s name, it has grown up a tine boy who seems 
to give precious little heed to the doctrines which 
my wife would as it were by force imprint upon 
his mind. To her great grief, he betrays both his 
Southern blood and his Southern faith. He is now 
nine years old, so far as we cau guess, and toward 
the latter part of this month he is to spend a few 
days at the house of Lord Philip of Marnix. I 
will then have the opportunity of becoming ac- 
quainted with Lord Philip. You may remember, 
Mr. Harmsen, that I was always a great admirer 
of learning, and is not Lord Maruix very 
learned?” 

‘^Yes, indeed, Joris,” replied Walter Harmsen, 
with difficulty suppressing a smile. “You can 
have your fill of admiration as you look at Lord 
Philip, for he is very learned. Even now, although 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


33 


suffering much from the gout, he is engaged upon 
labors committed to him by the States-General.’’ 

What may those labors be inquired Joris, 
with amusing eagerness. 

The translation of the Holy Scriptures from 
the original languages into the Dutch. He is a 
thorough master of those difficult tongues. But, 
with all his learning, he is a person of great sim- 
plicity — a man whom to know is to love. I count 
it among my greatest enjoyments to spend an even- 
ing in conversation with him.” 

Does Lord Marnix occupy the country-house 
all alone?” 

^‘Oh no; just now his son, Baron Jacob van 
Marnix, and wife and daughter, are spending the 
autumn season with him. Also, very near here is 
the residence of Baron Wessel van den Boetzelaar, 
who, as you will remember, was married this sum- 
mer to Amelia, the daughter of Lord Philip. He 
is constantly receiving visits from men prominent 
in the State or in the learned professions ; so that, 
you see, he is not left solitary in his old age. But 
it becomes high time we part company. Now, do 
not forget our appointment ; I shall look for you 
to-morrow afternoon about four o’clock at the house 
of the wagonmaker Ledegauck.” 

Where you will sell fine linen ?” 

I shall at least offer it for sale.” 

Then I will have to provide myself with money, 

3 


34 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


of which I do not have an abundance; for, al- 
though this little package is full of bright metal, 
it doesn’t belong to me.” 

Thus speaking, the manikin lifted the heavy 
package and placed it upon his right shoulder. 

Walter Harmsen smiled, then, after a moment’s 
reflection, laid his hand upon the dwarf’s other 
shoulder, and, looking him kindly and intently in 
the eye, he said with earnest emphasis, 

“ Oh that your ears might be opened to compre- 
hend spiritual things ! Believe me, the wares that I 
shall to-morrow ofler for sale are so costly that they 
are not to be gotten for gold or for silver ; yet you 
and every one who will may possess them. But 
ask me no further now ; come to-morrow, and 
you will know what I mean. Good-bye !” 

Taking Joris by the hand and wishing him a safe 
arrival at home, Walter Harmsen passed through 
the gate and went up the lane, while Joris, after 
for a few moments watching the retreating form of 
the incomprehensible merchant, passed by the gate, 
and soon left the highway to enter a footpath that 
led more directly to Yoorschoten. 


CHAPTER III. 


A LIVING MAN-TBAP. 

O UR friend Joris Ruikmans walked on in soli- 
tude along the footpath that led to Wyngaer- 
den House, with whose steward he was to transact 
some business. He expected to stay over-night at 
the mansion and either to spend the following day 
at Voorschoten or to go on to The Hague. The 
country through which he was now passing was 
not very woody-— only occasionally could be seen a 
cluster of trees — but the path was frequently skirt- 
ed by thick hedges. The air was very mild, and, 
although the moon had not yet risen, it could not be 
said that it was quite dark. Joris did not great- 
ly hurry his steps, for he was plunged in deeper 
thought than usual, caused by the many whole- 
some words which Walter Harmsen had addressed 
to him. Every few steps he stopped to shift the 
heavy little bundle, with its precious contents, from 
one shoulder to the other ; but at length he noticed 
in the distance the tall oaks surrounding Wyngaer- 
den House, and he knew that he could not be much 
more than a mile from his destination. 


35 


36 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


Suddenly, Juris thought he heard whispering 
voices, and, recollecting what had happened not 
long ago in this vicinity, he deemed it prudent to 
seek a hiding-place — not so much for fear of his 
life as of being robbed of his money. Being so 
very diminutive of person, he found little difficulty 
in completely concealing himself by creeping be- 
neath an unusually dense hedge. He experienced 
some slight inconvenience and pain from the numer- 
ous thorns ; but when once he had reached the cen- 
tre of the hedge, he had the satisfaction of knowing 
that it would require considerably more than moon- 
light to discover his position : he could, therefore, 
without much fear of discovery wait the approach 
of the persons whom he had heard whispering to- 
gether. Ere long they were close upon him. 

I tell you,’^ said one of them — “ I tell you that 
our little man can’t be far from here.” 

“ I am of the same opinion, Geert,” remarked 
another, who spoke with a decided Flemish accent. 

Scarce ten minutes ago did we see him take this 
path. He could not have got farther than this 
spot ; for if he had gone past this hedge, he would 
certainly have fallen in with Duik Allers, who was 
to wait for him at the Papen road-crossing.” 

“ Exactly,” assented Geert Herman. It is im- 
possible for the little fellow to escape us. It would 
be a pity if he did, for, as you say, Fran9ois, he has 
a nice lot of money with him.” 


A LIVING MAN-TRAP. 


37 


That has he/’ replied the latter. Since this 
morning, when he left The Hague, I kept my eye 
on him constantly. The last I saw of him he was 
in the dry-goods shop of Hillebrands, which he left 
with a package of money in his possession. Then 
I made haste to notify Duik Allers and you.” 

You did right in that, Bardes,” said Geert Her- 
man. “But where can the manikin be now? I 
hope he hasn’t heard us approaching and hid 
himself in the hedge.” 

“ Oh, that we can easily find out,” said the Flem- 
ing. “ Let us go to the end of the hedge ; then do 
you keep on one side, and I on the other, and come 
back along its whole length, feeling with our swords 
and looking closely every inch of the way. We 
sha’n’t be long stirring him up out of his hid- 
ing-place.” 

“ I approve of your proposition, Bardes,” replied 
Herman. 

Advancing a little distance and each taking one 
side of the hedge, the men slowly retraced their 
steps, bending low down and sticking their long 
rapiers between the twigs and the branches. 

Joris found himself in no very enviable situation; 
there seemed great likelihood that the two villains 
who were bent upon robbing him would discover 
his hiding-place. What would be the consequences 
of discovery was easily conjectured, as he would by 
no means be the first who had been robbed and 


38 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


murdered in this same neighborhood. His heart 
beat almost audibly ; he thought of his wife, of his 
eternal salvation, about which he felt no little con- 
cern. But what could he do ? It was idle to think 
of flight, for the robbers were too close not to hear 
his footsteps ; and even if he should attempt flight 
after they had passed him by without discovery, it 
would not avail, for he had heard that a third vil- 
lain was waiting for him at the end of the path. 
All Joris could do, therefore, was to wait for results, 
and, placing the package of money by his side, he 
laid himself flat on the ground and sent up to a few 
of the saints fervent petitions for help in this his 
hour of need. 

“ He is not here, Bardes,” exclaimed Geert Her- 
man, at last, in tones of impatience. I am afraid 
he heard us coming and has escaped through the 
woods yonder to Sandhorst Castle.^^ 

You are wonderfully impatient, Geert,” replied 
the Fleming. Let us keep on along the whole 
length of this thicket. Between the wood yonder 
and this hedge there is a wide ditch across which 
he could not leap ; therefore he must be somewhere 
under the hedge.” 

How do you know that so precisely ?” asked 
the cloth-weaver. ‘^Yon haven’t seen him, any 
more than I have; and your vision isn’t so very 
sharp, either.” 

These last words contained a thrust which was 


A LIVING MAN-TRAP. 


39 


not at all to Francois Bardes’s liking, for he had 
only one eye. Therefore he angrily rejoined, 

If I don’t see quite so sharply, my hearing is 
so much the better. At least, I Iieard pretty well 
what was said in a certain mill near Steenwyk, and 
how the mother of the child — ” 

^‘You lie, fellow!” cried Geert Herman, from 
the other side of the hedge. You heard nothing. 
That’s something you have made up yourself. As 
if I did not know that you can lie like Satan I” 
Yes,” said the Fleming, becoming more furious 
at these words, as if I was as great a rascal as you 
are ! I suppose I also lie when I say that you 
honestly made that money which the Jesuits 
gave you to hand over to Peter Panne, who was 
to assassinate Prince Maurice?” 

You lie again, fellow !” cried Herman. I 
gave you the half of it. And wasn’t Peter Panne 
locked up before I could get a chance to give him 
the money ?” 

‘‘A fine half you gave me,” mocked Bardes; 

you gave me scarce enough to get me a few cans 
of beer. But that’s the way you always do. So 
would you do if we got hold of Joris. You would 
cut his throat, take the money and leave me the 
empty bag.” 

Joris instinctively put his hand up to his throat 
to feel if it were safe, and trembled with fright. 

“ ^ Cut his throat ’ ?” said Herman. 


40 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Yes; what else would you do?” inquired the 
Fleming. “ Isn’t that what you did to — 

‘‘You lie! you lie!” screamed Geert. “What 
shall hinder me but I — ” 

“And what would you do to me, you long-necked 
villain?” cried Bardes, swinging his rapier over the 
hedge. “ Do you think I am afraid of you ? You 
are a rascal of the deepest dye. But this very 
night shall Sheriff Loth Huyghens Gael know 
what kind of man you are.” 

“ I will not let you say this to me, you one-eyed 
Fleming !” cried the infuriated Herman. “ I will 
show you how I can shorten your long liar’s 
tongue.” 

So saying, Geert made a movement as if to hurl 
himself upon his antagonist, but in his passion he 
forgot that the hedge was between them. He 
therefore exerted himself to the utmost to force 
his way through, but the hedge was too wide and 
too thick to allow of his doing so ; and, to the 
great delight of Bardes, who stood watching his 
fruitless efforts, he cut himself in numberless places 
with the sharp thorns. 

“ I must and will get through !” exclaimed Geert 
Herman. 

“ What would you do if you did ?” tauntingly 
said Bardes. “Don’t you understand that I am 
not afraid of such a fellow as you are, and that my 
sword is sharper than your tongue ?” 


A LIVING MAN-TRAP. 


41 


^‘Wretch!’’ cried Herman, trying to force his 
way headforemost and roaring with the pain caused 
by the thorns. I must and will get through this 
hedge and stop that mouth of yours.^’ 

“ Ha, ha laughed Bardes. When you are 
halfway. I’ll pin you fast to the branches with my 
sword. Perhaps you have in your pockets some- 
thing which may be of use to me.” 

The cloth-weaver now redoubled his efforts to get 
to the other side and trod down leaves and twigs 
with his coarse shoes, when suddenly there was 
heard a scream which seemed to ascend from the 
very ground beneath their feet. 

What is that ?” exclaimed both villains at once, 
while they looked in all directions. 

A second time the strange half-smothered cry 
was heard. 

]\Iy leg ! my leg !” cried Geert Herman at the 
same time. Some one has got me by the leg and 
is pricking it with a knife. Help ! help ! There’s 
the very living devil hacking away at my leg !” 

This living devil, of course, was none other than 
Joris liuikmans. In his eagerness to press through 
the hedge Geert had stepped upon one arm of the 
dwarf, who could not repress a cry of pain. He 
then bethought him that the best thing he could 
do was to hold the robber by the leg and prick 
him with his knife, and thus bring him to terms. 

It is our manikin,” exclaimed Bardes, who had 


42 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


bent down to ascertain the cause of the noise. 

We have got him now. Now the money is ours, 
for sure.^^ 

In the same instant all enmity between the rob- 
bers was forgotten. 

Hold him, Geert,” said the Fleming, ^^and pull 
him from under the hedge, and I’ll run around to 
your side and lend a hand.” 

It is easy enough for you to say so, Bardes,” 
replied the weaver, between his cries of pain ; ‘^the 
little fellow holds my legs so tightly that I ciin’t 
stir.” 

This was indeed the case. Joris, but too truly 
surmising what fate might be awaiting him, now 
exerted all the strength of despair, and held the 
legs of Herman in so firm an embrace that the 
villain, who had fallen with his face among the 
thorns, could make no movement to extricate him- 
self. 

Meanwhile, Bardes had run around to the other 
side of the hedge, and had nearly reached the spot 
where Joris was struggling for dear life, when of a 
sudden rapidly-approaching footsteps were heard, as 
of some one running, and soon they perceived that 
it was their accomplice, Duik Allers. 

Is that you, Duik ?” said Herman. 

Yes,” replied the other, hurriedly. I am glad 
I met you. Quick ! save yourselves. The stew- 
ard of Wyngaerden is after us.” 


A LIVING MAN-2’BAF. 


43 


Where ? Where is he cried Bardes, trying 
to penetrate the darkness. 

^‘Yonder/’ cried Duik, pointing with his finger 
toward some torches moving about at no great dis- 
tance. 

In the same instant voices were heard from sev- 
eral directions, crying, 

Joris ! Joris Riiikmans ! Where are you ?” 

Here ^ screamed the little man, from under the 
hedge. 

Bardes did not wait long to betake himself to 
flight, followed by Duik Allers; but Geert Her- 
man, it need not be said, could not take advantage 
of the opportunity, for Joris would not let him go 
and every little while pricked him severely with his 
knife. The robber roared with pain and kicked 
with desperate violence, as if he had been attacked 
by a serpent and were trying to shake it off. But 
Joris was not to be shaken off. 

Joris Ruikmans ^ the voices cried again, now 
much closer. 

Here again shouted Joris from beneath the 
hedge. 

The torches came nearer and nearer ; and when 
they arrived at the spot where Geert Herman was 
held in this extraordinary man-trap, Joris called 
out with all his might. 

Here, Mr. Steward ! I am sitting here under 
the hedge, and am holding Geert Hermanns legs. 


44 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


He meant to cut my throat this evening, and to rob 
me of my money. Seize him 

The steward of Wyngaerden House, who had 
begun to be uneasy about the long tarrying of Joris, 
had collected the servant-men and gone out to meet 
him, knowing that the road was not altogether safe 
at night. Thus they had come in the nick of time 
to save the dwarf from robbery and murder. They 
immediately acted upon the request of Joris. They 
seized the cloth-weaver, bound him securely and 
conducted him to Wyngaerden House, intending 
of the morrow to deliver him over into the hands 
on Mr. Gael, the sheriff. 


CHAPTER IV. 

PHfLIP MARNIX OF ST. ALDEGONDE. 

M eanwhile, Waiter Harmsen had leisurely 
sauntered upthe lane leadingtothe country-seat 
of Lord Philip Marnix of St. Aldegonde. Twenty 
years had passed since last we saw Walter laboring 
in the vicinity of the city of Utrecht, preaching the 
gospel to all within his reach — twenty years of dif- 
ficulties, griefs and disappointments. It was his 
hope and trust when first he resolved to give him- 
self, constrained by the love of Christ, to the work 
oP^a traveling evangelist, that the hearts of men 
would be more open to receive the glad tidings of 
the kingdom of heaven ; bnt at the age of forty, to 
his great sorrow, his experience had confirmed the 
truth of the scriptural declaration that the world 
loves its own and has no pleasure in the things 
of God. 

Yet Walter’s experience had not been all dark- 
ness and appointment. The Lord had vouchsafed 
him the privilege once and again to reap where he 
himself had sown. There were certain movements 
in the churches of The Hague and of Leyden, there 

45 


46 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


was a revival of interest in several other places, 
which now encouraged him to put forth all the 
efforts of which he was capable, that he might yet 
add a few stones to the great temple of God. 

Such an awaking of religious interest had been 
witnessed especially in the village of Wassenaar and 
its immediate surroundings. This had been materi- 
ally promoted by the settlement at Leyden of the 
Puritans, a sect of English Protestants who object- 
ed to the practices and doctrines of their national 
Church, and who had beeu driven from their coun- 
try by Queen Elizabeth only a little while before 
the opening of our tale. These people could not 
tolerate any marked outward display of religious 
worship ; they were of opinion that the magistrate 
should abolish altars, clerical garments and every 
other relic or symbol of former idolatry and super- 
stition in the Church. They were generally very 
intelligent, simple and sincere Christians. Walter 
Harmsen fully shared their sentiments, aud in many 
ways was greatly in sympathy with these men of 
faith. He had accordingly followed up the line of 
their influence, and had succeeded in bringing many 
to a more decided life for God. In Wassenaar 
itself the Lord had largely blessed his labors, and 
many of the faithful were there to be found ; these 
gathered about him both in public gospel services 
and in meetings for prayer and religious converse 
in private houses. Many persons, however, in this 


PHILIP MABNIX OF ST. ALDEGONDE. 47 


same region who were attached to the more strict 
ecclesiastical party took but little pleasure in the 
proceedings of our evangelist and attributed sinister 
motives to him. But Walter Harmsen gave little 
heed to these ; he pursued his coui-se undisturbed in 
mind, and in a spirit of meekness and modest firm- 
ness met the obstacles and annoyances that were 
thrown in his way. 

Through the brown foliage of the beech trees 
Walter perceived the lights of the house he was 
approaching ; and when quite near, he heard the 
notes of a psalm sung by the inmates. He soon 
reached the foot of the flight of steps hewn oat of 
gray stone which led up to a piazza surrounding 
the house. He stopped to listen to the singing, not 
wishing to disturb the family in their evening wor- 
ship. As he stood with his back to the house he 
heard light footsteps softly coming down the stoop, 
and before he could turn a pair of arms were thrown 
around his neck and soft, plump hands were pressed 
over his eyes. With evident effort at a change of 
voice the person exclaimed. 

Guess who it is f ’ 

Walter had no difficulty in conjecturing who was 
perpetrating the mischief, but, being a lover of fun, 
he affected to be at pains to make a correct guess : 

^‘It is Baron Jacob Marnix.” 

The person who held him captive was felt to 
shake with ill-suppressed laughter. 


48 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


‘^Why are you laughing? Did not I guess 
right?’’ asked Walter. 

“ No,” said the voice at his back ; Lord Jacob 
is making verses in his father’s study.” 

‘‘Then it is Lord Philip himself?” 

Wrong !” cried the person, trying still more to 
change the voice. 

‘^Then it must be the sheriff of Leyden, who, 
on account of my preaching — ” 

Will put you in prison,” interrupted the voice. 

W rong again !” 

Then I give it up,” said Harmsen. But 
wait,” he continued, putting his arms behind him 
and about the owner of the hands ; “ now you are 
caught yourself. I’ll carry you up the stoop, and 
there it will have to come out who you are.” 

Walter accordingly ascended the stone steps with 
the burden on his back, and, reaching the piazza, 
he turned and put his prize upon a chair. 

“Ah ! it is you, is it?” said he, pretending to be 
astonished. “ It is you. Lady Walburg, who lie in 
wait in the dark for people and attack them from 
behind?” 

“ Ha, ha !” laughed the little girl, who was none 
other than Walburg van Marnix, the granddaughter 
of Philip Marnix of St. Aldegonde. “ I have been 
looking for you for the last hour, and could not 
stand it up stairs any longer. It was not nice of 
you to be so late. Grandfather is suffering much 


PHILIP MARNIX OF ST. ALDEGONDE. 49 

from the gout, and father is not too well, either ; 
but — ” 

Methinks I hear your grandfather singing the 
bass even now/’ 

That’s what grandfather always does when he 
is in pain. He says there is no merit in singing 
when one is well, but that it is a sign of the. sound- 
ness of a soul when it can force a person to sing 
while the body is ill.” 

Walter smiled at this naive repetition of the 
great patriot’s sentiments. 

“ But I am glad you have come, Mr. Harmsen,” 
continued the vivacious child, jumping from the 
chair, but holding Walter’s hands. ^^Come up 
stairs with me right away. You will stay over- 
night with us?” 

^^That was my intention, dear Walburg,” an- 
swered Harmsen, kissing her on the forehead. I 
want to have some good long talks with you, and 
perhaps, if your father will permit it, I shall take 
you along to Wassenaar with me to-morrow.” 

At this moment one of the housemaids appeared 
upon the piazza, requesting Lady Walburg to come 
into the house, as the family were uneasy about her 
long stay. 

Now, that is your fault,” said Walburg, with 
mock severity. Why were you so long coming ? 
Let us hurry up stairs.” 

Quickly tripping up the stairs before him, the 
4 


50 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


girl soon conducted him into the room where the 
family were seated. The apartment was not large, 
and was furnished with exceeding plainness. Over 
a large oaken table hung suspended a copper lamp 
whose two burning wicks afforded but a dim light. 
At this table were seated two gentlemen who it 
could readily be seen by a careful observer were 
father and son, although a painful malady, the con- 
sequence of a severe wound received at the siege of 
Steenwyk, had reduced the vigor of the younger 
man till he looked much older than his real age. 
Opposite them both sat a lady whose amiable and 
attractive countenance at once impressed the cas- 
ual observer. She was the wife of Baron Jacob, the 
Lady Veronica. She had been listening intently to 
the conversation of her husband and her father-in- 
]aw while they had been discussing the versification 
of a passage in a psalm translated by the latter 
from the Hebrew ; and when they had put it to tlie 
test by singing, she had joined her beautiful voice to 
theirs, much heightening the effect of the psal- 
mody. 

The elder of the two gentlemen was Philip van 
Marnix, lord of St. Aldegonde. He was a bent 
and gray-haired man of some sixty years whose 
vigorous constitution had succumbed less to the 
weight of these years than to the burdens of state, 
and to the public cares and pereonal bereavements 
incident to a period of turbulent political move- 


PHILIP MABNIX OF ST. ALDEGONDE. 51 


ments and sanguinary Warfare. He wore the col- 
lar with the large starched folds of the period, 
while his shoulders were enveloped in a mantle of 
brown fur ; his feet likewise were carefully wrapped 
in the same, to counteract the pangs of the gout. 
In his hand he held a sheet of writing-paper, upon 
which he had jotted down several notes with the as- 
sistance of his son, who was also a lover of learning, 
although not so greatly accomplished as his father. 

This, then, was the man who by birth, character, 
Christian virtues, achievements and accomplishments 
had adorned his age, and might well have adorned 
any age. We cannot forbear quoting somewhat ex- 
tensively from Mr. Motley^s description of his char- 
acter and attainments. 

There were few more brilliant characters, writes 
Mr. Motley, than he in all Christendom. He was 
a man of a most rare and versatile genius. He 
was a scholar ripe and rare, no holiday trifler in 
the gardens of learning. He spoke and wrote Latin 
like his native tongue. He could compose poignant 
Greek epigrams. He was so familiar with Hebrew 
that he rendered the Psalms of David out of the 
original into flowing Flemish verse for the use of 
the Reformed churches. That he possessed the 
modern tongues of civilized Europe — Spanish, Ital- 
ian, French and German — was a matter of course. 
He was a profound jurisconsult capable of holding 
debate against all competitors upon any point of 


52 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


theory or practice of law, civil, iniiDicipal, inter- 
Dational. He was a learned theologian and had 
often proved himself a match for the doctors, bish- 
ops or rabbins of Europe in highest argument of 
dogma, creed or tradition. He was a practiced di- 
plomatist constantly employed in delicate and dif- 
ficult negotiations by William the Silent, who ever 
admired his genius, cherished his friendship and re- 
lied upon his character. He was an eloquent orator 
whose memorable harangue, beyond all his other ef- 
forts, at the Diet of Worms, had made the German 
princes hang their heads with shame when, taking 
a broad view of the Netherland matter, he had 
shown that it was the great question of Europe ; 
. . . that Protestantism could not be unraveled into 
shreds ; . . . that the war, in short, was to be met 
[by Germany] on the threshold, or else that it 
would come to seek her at home — a prophecy 
whicli the horrible Thirty Years’ War was in after- 
time most signally to verify. 

He was a poet of vigor and originality, for he 
had accomplished what has been achieved by few : 
he had composed a national hymn whose strophes 
as soon as heard struck a chord in every Nether- 
land heart and for three centuries long have rung 
like a clarion wherever the Netherland tongue is 
spoken. . . . He was supposed to be the author of 
the famous Compromise of the Nobles — that earliest 
and most conspicuous of the state-papers of the re- 


PHILIP MABNIX OF ST. ALDEGONDE. 53 


public — and of many other political documents, and 
he has contributed to general literature many works 
of European celebrity. 

He was a soldier courageous, untiring, prompt 
in action, useful in council, and had distinguished 
himself in many a hard-fought field. . . . From 
the incipient stages of the revolt he had been fore- 
most among the patriots. . . . 

Scholar, theologian, diplomatist, swordsman, 
orator, poet, pamphleteer, he had genius for all 
things and was eminent in all. ... Of ancient 
Savoyard extraction, and something of a Southern 
nature, he had been born in Brussels and was na- 
tional to the heart’s core. ... A man of interest- 
ing, sympathetic presence, of a physiognomy where 
many of the attaching and attractive qualities of 
his nature revealed themselves ; with crisp curling 
hair surmounting a tall, expansive forehead full of 
benevolence, idealism and quick perceptions ; broad, 
brown, melancholy eyes overflowing with tender- 
ness ; a lean and haggard cheek ; a rugged Flem- 
ish nose; a thin, flexible mouth; a slender mous- 
tache and a peaked and meagre beard : so appeared 
Sainte Aldegonde in the forty-seventh year of his 
age, when he came to command in Antwerp.” * 

This was the turning-point of the active and use- 
ful life of St. Aldegonde. The siege of Antwerp 
resulted, after many mouths of brave, determined 
* United Netherlands, vol. i. pp. 145-148. 


54 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


and skillful defence, in its surrender (1586) to the 
prince of Parma, the greatest captain of his age. 
This reverse of fortune on St. Aldegonde’s part 
was gravely resented by tlie States-Geueral of the 
republic of the Netherlands ; the bosom-friend of 
William the Silent was even accused of treasonable 
designs. With difficulty, yet with final and tri- 
umphant success, did he clear himself of all un- 
worthy imputations ; but his political influence and 
his public life were at an end. He devoted him- 
self henceforth to learned pursuits. In 1591 he 
published his version of the Psalms in Dutch 
rhyme. In 1598 he was commissioned by the 
States-General to prepare a new translation of the 
Bible from the original tongues — a work which was 
interrupted by his death, near the same year, and a 
few months after the opening of our tale. 


CHAPTER V. 


A GREAT MAN AT HOME. 

S Walter and little Walburg entered the fam- 



ily-room its three occupants were just sing- 
ing a stanza of a psalm translated by Lord Philip ; 
stopping at the door, the former joined their voices 
to those of the latter in the closing lines of the 
stanza. Out of reverence for the sacred and sol- 
emn exercise, the family made no movement to 
welcome their guest except by a nod of recogni- 


tion, 


Welcome to our home, friend Harmsen f’ said 
Lord Marnix when the stanza was finished. Un- 
able to rise from his chair, he extended his hand 
and pressed Walter’s with much cordiality. 

I am greatly rejoiced to see you. Lord Marnix,” 
said the latter; did not think that I should 
have that pleasure.” 

^^And why not?” inquired St. Aldegonde, a look 
of pain overcasting his countenance as he changed 
the position of his right foot, which caused him 
most suffering. 

Because I had been informed that you were not 
well enough to receive any one.” 


66 


56 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


regards my pain, dear friend/^ said St. AI- 
degonde, still holdiDg Walter’s hand in his own, 
it has not been overstated — you perceive how I 
am bound to my chair — but it is not quite so bad 
that I cannot receive my friends. On the contrary, 
I delight in being surrounded by them, especially 
by such of them as will join me in the worship of 
God. Your visit aifords me very great pleasure, 
for in the evening of my life I find religious con- 
versation and the exercises of piety more and more 
precious. We were just engaged in comparing my 
versification of the Psalms with that of Dathenus. 
But pardon me ! I have not as yet offered you a seat 
nor affordecl opportunity to my son and his wife to 
extend to you a welcome.” 

Baron Jacob had arisen and was bringing a chair 
to place it for the guest next to that of his father ; 
he now took Walter by the hand and conducted him 
to Lady Veronica, who welcomed him in a very 
cordial manner. 

Walburg was so sorry that you delayed coming, 
Mr. Harmsen,” she said, in her winning way ; I 
had to promise her that she need not retire before 
you came. If you knew how fond our daughter 
is of you, you certainly would have hastened your 
steps. But we are very glad to have you with us 
at last, and we trust that your visit will be of good 
length.” 

‘•You are very kind, worthy lady,” said Walter, 


A GREAT 31 AN AT H03IE. 


57 


but I have promised my friends at Wasseiiaar to 
spend to-morrow in their midst/^ 

^^Are you intending to resume evangelistic ser- 
vices at Wassenaar?’’ inquired Baron Jacob van 
Mar nix, whose speech was broken by a cough. 

With God’s help, yes,” answered Harmsen. 

I am afraid, friend Harmsen,” observed St. 
Aldegonde, with a smile, that you have in mind 
to found a new sect among those Pietists.” 

I am well aware that you are not speaking 
seriously. Your Lordship,” replied Walter, who 
had now seated himself at St. Aldegonde’s side ; 

but even if you were, I trust that in that case 
your fear would be replaced by rejoicing.” 

How so ?” queried Lord Philip, somewhat 
abruptly, by reason of a sudden attack of pain. 

I would deem myself very much mistaken in 
the character of the estimable lord of Marnix,” 
rejoined Walter, with quiet emphasis, were I not 
convinced that he would rejoice to learn that here 
and there the true people of Christ come togetlier 
without much external form, rather than that the 
sinner kept on serving the world and the devil 
under multiplied religious forms and usages.” 

You do not deceive yourself in your estimate 
of my character, worthy friend. If I must choose 
between these two alternatives, I by far prefer the 
former. You know my sentiments : I am attached 
with all my heart and soul to our national Church, 


58 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


watered by the blood of martyrs ; but I have no 
quarrel with those who are my brethren in Christ, 
whosoever they are.’’ 

know it, noble sir,” said Walter. re- 
member how at one time you invited a conference 
to meet at your house in order to elfect a reconcilia- 
tion and union of Lutherans and Reformed.” 

Yes, but it resulted, alas ! in nothing. The 
tenacity with which the former held to their Augs- 
burg Confession clashed against the obstinacy of 
certain rigid Calvinists. You know that when 
two hard substances strike against each other fire 
flashes.” 

Which consumes instead of warming,” inter- 
rupted Walter. 

“ Exactly ; and accordingly I mingle in no more 
disputations of that nature. But I perceive that 
my son is leafing through my collection of Psalms. 
If agreeable" to you, we shall unite in singing an- 
other psalm.” 

When the singing had ceased, each remained 
plunged in silent thought. Lord Philip hummed 
another tune without pronouncing the words, occa- 
sionally rubbing his afflicted limbs. Baron Jacob 
continued to turn over page after page of the 
collection, and every now and then pointed out a 
particularly beautiful line to his wife, who was 
leaning with her arm on his and looking over his 
shoulder. 


A GEEAT MAN AT HOME, 


59 


It was then that Walburg seized the opportunity 
to engage the exclusive attention of Walter. She 
came to his side, put one arm about his neck and 
looked him tenderly in the face. 

I am so happy to have you with us,” she said, 
in a low tone, for I must tell you something that 
no one else may know.” 

Have I, then, become your father-confessor ?” 
asked Walter, smiling. ^^Are not your father, 
mother and grandfather in the secret?” 

Oh, certainly ! But I mean no one else but you 
outside of them.” 

^‘Well,” said Walter, “what is it you have to 
to tell me?” 

“ Do you know anything about Walburgius Steen- 
wyk ?” began the child. 

“Yes, a little. That is the boy who is staying 
with Joris Kuikmans at The Hague, is it not?” 

“ Yes, under the guardianship of Major Gapertz, 
my father and — ” 

“ Yourself,” smilingly interrupted Walter. “Sure- 
ly, the boy could have no better guardians.” 

“Yet the boy is so unhappy !” sighed Walburg ; 
“ if you look into his dark eyes, you can easily see 
that he is not contented. I imagine he is homesick 
for his own country.” 

“ What country do you think he is from ?” 

“ That can very easily be guessed from his dark- 
brown complexion,” said Walburg, decisively. “ He 


60 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


must be from the South somewhere — possibly from 
France. I am sure that he is longing for his coun- 
try and his parents.’^ 

‘ His parents’ !” exclaimed Walter. ‘‘But does 
he know anything about their whereabouts ?” 

“ No ; no more than do any of us. Nevertheless, 
I hope to obtain some traces of them.” 

“ You?” asked Walter, looking at Walburg with 
an amused but incredulous smile. “ How do you 
expect to obtain these?” 

“ By the aid of your Jacoba,” replied the little 
maid, with an arch look. 

“By the aid of my Jacoba?” repeated Walter, 
seeming to reflect. “Do you mean the Lady Ja- 
coba van Vlooswyk, who is with her father in 
France ?” 

“Exactly, and who will soon come to visit us 
here. Did you not tell me that she was your Ja- 
coba because you had won her through the gos- 
pel ?” 

Walter Harmsen did not reply. His thoughts 
reverted to all the events and changes of the last 
twenty yejirs, and these recollections touched many 
a tender chord in his heart. 

At this point Lady Veronica turned and spoke, 
addressing Harmsen : 

“You observe that Walburg has probed the se- 
crets of your heart. She has entered upon a busy 
correspondence with Lady Jacoba, whose letters she 


A GREAT MAN AT HOME. 


61 


prizes all the more because their contents are so 
largely occupied with you/^ 

“With me?” asked Walter, in some confusion. 

“ Do you wonder at it?” rejoined Lady Veronica, 
archly, shaking her finger at him in smiling re- 
proach. 

“ Oh, you might as well confess,” whispered 
Walburg, “that you are as fond of Jacoba as you 
are of — me,” she added, with amiable egotism. 

At this momenta housemaid announced the even- 
ing meal. Lord Philip had fallen into a restful doze, 
enjoying a momentary relief from pain ; he was 
gently aroused by Lady Veronica and conducted 
by her to the dining-room, followed by her hus- 
band, Walter Harmsen and Walburg. Here a sim- 
ple evening repast was awaiting them. 

Gladly would we introduce our readers into this 
same dining-room, that they might have a view 
of the Christian simplicity characterizing the every- 
day life of our forefathers. No doubt, too, the con- 
versation that was held at this table where Marnix 
of St. Aldegonde was the host was “ seasoned with 
salt.” But the course of our narrative calls us else- 
where, and we must not linger here. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE STEWARD'S PAYMENT. 

I^EAR the old Papen road — now called Papen 
-hi lane’^ — connecting the two villages of Was- 
senaar and Voorschoten, there stood at the time 
of our story a mansion belonging to the lords of 
Sandhorst and occupied by a keeper who was at 
the same time the steward of their estates. With 
the consent of the owners, who very seldom resided 
here, the steward was in the habit of renting this 
mansion — which was known as the Wyugaerden 
House’’ — to families who were desirous of spend- 
ing the summer in the country. It was a very old 
building, and, although the owners had frequently 
been of a mind to pull it down, it remained stand- 
ing in its dilapidated condition without receiving 
the benefit of repairs or improvements. 

The keeper of Wyugaerden House was a model 
steward ; there was nothing out of which he did 
not manage to make money. What could be rent- 
ed he rented ; whatever capital he had on hand 
he put into something that would bring profit. 
Among other things, he dealt in cloths and linen 


THE STEWARD PAYMENT. 


63 


goods, in cattle and fruits ; a full assortment of old 
arms — swords, rapiers, muskets, daggers — was kept 
on hand by him. The cellar-vaults were a perfect 
magazine of curiosities and commodities; in some 
of them were stored several kegs of gunpowder for 
the convenience of those who wished to engage in 
the amusement of the chase. 

The steward was some sixty years of age. His 
hair had grown gray in the service of his masters, 
as well as in that of the world ; for he acknowledged 
no God but self-interest, money and his money- 
chest. At Leyden he had the reputation of a 
grasping miser. Although he personally conducted 
most of his affairs, he seldom left home, for fear 
that some one might enter the house in the mean 
time and rob him of his treasures. For this reason 
he had given a part of his mercantile transactions 
and collections of money in charge of two or three 
men who traveled around with Joris Ruikmans to 
offer their master’s wares for sale and to bring back 
the proceeds in safety to the already well-filled 
chest. Although unmarried, the steward needed 
the help of a housekeeper or a housemaid, but to 
avoid paying high wages he had engaged a servant 
who was a stranger to these parts, and who, on 
account of her seeming stupidity and awkward- 
ness, could find no one else to engage her services. 

On the evening when Joris Ruikmaus met 
Walter Harmsen upon the road to The Hague the 


64 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


steward was expecting the former with a sum of 
money from some of his Leyden customers, and it 
was intended that he should reach the mansion 
before dark ; we have seen what prevented Joris 
from reaching the house at the time appointed. 
Much more concerned about the safety of the money 
he was conveying than about that of Joris himself, 
the steward grew uneasy after evening had fallen, 
and, collecting his laborers, he led them along the 
Papen road in the direction in which Joris was ex- 
pected to come ; we have seen that they arrived not 
a moment too soon. 

It was late when the party returned to the man- 
sion. The housemaid, who on the departure of all 
the men-folks had locked and barred every door 
because of either her terror or her ignorance, found 
great difficulty in opening the door, and the party 
had to wait a long time before they were admitted. 
The patience of the old miser was completely ex- 
hausted, and he roundly scolded the servant for her 
stupid delay, but the words of her master seemed 
to make no impression upon her. The light of 
the torches had no sooner permitted her to dis- 
cern the features of the prisoner than she uttered 
a smothered cry which was attributed by the stew- 
ard to fright. 

Throw that tall rascal in the vault next to 
the old-iron storeroom,” was the steward’s order. 

Fasten a ring about one of his legs ; give him a 


THE STEWARH’S PAYMENT 


65 


handful of straw, some bread and water, and let 
him spend the night there. There is no grating 
across the window, but all the better for him : thus 
he can have more air. Besides, it is only for one 
night, and he will not be able to break the chain. 
Away with the villain !” 

The laborers seized Herman for the purpose of 
carrying out the steward’s orders. The highway- 
man made a desperate but fruitless resistance ; he 
was thrown to the ground and dragged along the 
stone floor and down the stone steps leading to the 
cellar. Arrived at the place designated by the stew- 
ard, he was secured in such a way that escai)e was 
hopeless. The housemaid followed the men, appai- 
ently in order to light the way ; she carefully mark- 
ed the spot where the prisoner was secured and took 
an occasional look at his face, as if to assure her- 
self that she was not mistaken in his identity. 

In one of the small apartments on the ground- 
floor of the dilapidated mansion the steward re- 
ceived little Joris Ruikmans, to obtain from him an 
account of the money that he was to have delivered 
to him before evening set in. The two men seated 
themselves at a table or desk upon which stood a 
table-lamp but poorly provided with oil or with 
wick. Upon this desk the steward emptied the 
contents of the bag which Joris had carried from 
Leyden, and which had so nearly cost him his 
life. 


5 


66 


THE SOLDIER WARD. 


“ From whom did you get this silver ducat 
asked the steward, weigliing the coin on a pair of 
small scales. 

I believe it was from the brewer on the Rhine 
dyke,’’ replied Joris. Is anything the matter 
with it?” 

I am inclined to think so,” said the other. A 
silver ducat must fetch eleven and one-half grains, 
and this does not weigh as much as that.” 

“ That is the fault of the scales,” returned Joris. 

Do you not see that the brass hooks of the scale- 
chains are a little twisted ?” 

You are right,” said the miser, adjusting the 
chains. ^^Now it comes out all right. One can- 
not be too careful nowadays.” 

The steward placed the coin in an iron chest, 
with all the pennies, double stivers and shillings 
which together made up the amount that Joris was 
to convey to him. Joris was to have received some 
of this money as his commission for collecting it, 
the percentage of wliich had been duly agreed upon 
before he undertook the work. Having as yet seen 
no signs of payment, while the steward was on the 
point of locking the chest he made bold to go to him 
and tap him on the shoulder before he turned the 
key. 

What do you want ?” asked the steward, hastily 
and in angry tones. 

I want you to keep your word,” returned Joris. 


THE STEWARD'S PAYMENT. 


67 


According to agreement, lam entitled to a payment 
of two' florins * and one shilling/’ 

^ Two florins and one shilling ’ !” exclaimed the 
steward, highly indignant. ^^Do you think lam 
going to impoverish myself for your sake ? I owe 
you nothing but two double stivers, and these would 
I gladly give you were it not that I have more than 
earned this amount by services rendered you.” 

^ Services rendered me ’ ?” asked Joris, in aston- 
ishment, and perceiving with no little anger that 
the miser was attempting to cheat him out of his 
honest earnings. What services have you rendered 
me ?” 

Did I not have to call my men together and 
burn several torches in order to look you up and 
deliver you from the hands of highwaymen ? If 
we had not come, you would certainly have been 
murdered. You see, therefore, that I have saved 
your life; and surely that is worth more than 
two double stivers to you?” 

The manikin trembled with wrath as he realized 
with what slyness the miser had kept him working 
for him for months and was now trying to withhold 
from him what was honestly his own on this plaus- 
ible pretext of having saved his life. The steward 
did not, however, concern himself about this, but 
was placing the key once more in the lock, when 

* A florin is equal to forty American cents ; a stiver, two 
cents ; a shilling, five cents. 


68 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


his arm was violently seized by Joris, who screamed 
into his ear : 

will not permit you to lock that chest. You 
must this instant pay me those two florins and one 
shilling.^' 

^‘1 must, eh?’^ answered the miser, tauntingly. 
‘^Who do you think you are, you wretched dwarf? 
^Must^! If you talk like that, I will give you 
nothing. I had thought of paying you two half 
stivers, but after this threat youfll get nothing at 
all.’^ 

So saying, the steward again turned to lock the 
chest. But Joris was not to be got rid of so easily; 
he threw himself upon the chest, seized the key 
and forced it out of the miser’s baud. 

Ho, ho !” cried the latter. Is this the way 
you go to work ? Then we will see what a man of 
my size can do with such a little fellow as you are. 
Though I am sixty, I think I have strength enough 
left in my old sinews to get the better of you.” 

So saying, the miser wrenched the key from Jo- 
ris’s hand and lifted him bodily from the floor, and 
without heeding the dwarf’s struggles or cries he 
carried him from the apartment and threw him into 
the hall as if he had been a bag of grain. 

There !” he observed, coolly, not much the 
worse for this exertion of remarkable strength on 
the part of a man of his age ; there ! Lie there 
and take some rest ; and if you get quieted down. 


THE STEWARD'S PAYMENT. 


69 


come to-morrow to my room and perhaps I’ll give 
yon those two half stivers.” 

The steward went back into his room, locked the 
door, likewise the chest, and, retiring to an adjoining 
apartment — which was his bedroom — he was soon 
dreaming blissfully of heaps of money and accu- 
mulating possessions. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE BING AND THE GIRDLE. 

P OOR Joris was much dazed by the rough 
handling he had experienced ; he had no mind 
to renew his attempts to obtain his money. His 
head had come into no gentle contact with the wall, 
and his arms and legs felt as if they had been 
slightly dislocated. For quite half an hour he 
remained lying in the position in which he had 
first reached the floor, but at the end of that time 
he deemed himself sufficiently restored to his nor- 
mal condition to be able to lift himself into a sitting 
posture. Perceiving no light in the steward’s room, 
he crept along upon hands and knees in the darkness, 
hoping to find a way of leaving the house; for, 
though not altogether unacquainted with the in- 
terior of the mansion, he was not familiar enough 
with it to know the way in the dark. Thus creep- 
ing along at haphazard, he soon came upon a stone 
staircase. He recollected that it led down several 
steps into a vaulted hallway affording egress by 
a door into the garden. He accordingly descended 
the steps and began feeling his way along the walls 
70 


THE RING AND THE GIRDLE. 


71 


to avoid the frequent projections of heavy masonry 
supporting the building. He had not proceeded 
very far when there appeared at the other end 
of the ha.llway the feeble light of a lamp, and he 
heard the tread of stealthy footsteps. Not wishing 
to be seen and curious to know who could be mov- 
ing about these dark subterranean passages at mid- 
night, he pressed his little person into a hollow 
place in the wall, where he was completely con- 
cealed. 

While Joris was thus safely hid a person passed 
by, and ten or twelve paces beyond remained stand- 
ing before a door. 

“ Geert Herman said this person, whom Jo- 
ris now recognized to be the steward’s housemaid. 

Geert Herman !” she called again, pressing her 
forehead against the door. 

I am here !” 

Joris heard this reply in a voice which he 
plainly recalled as that of the captive highway- 
man. 

Then I am not mistaken,” muttered the house- 
maid to herself ; this is the place where they have 
secured him. I shall now find a means of getting 
at him.” 

Joris looked earnestly to see what the woman 
was going to do. 

Can you not reach the door ?” she inquired, put- 
ting her mouth close to the keyhole. 


72 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


No/^ answered the prisoner ; I am fastened to 
the wall with a ring and a chain/’ 

“ Good !” muttered the maid, again to herself. 

Then I need not fear to enter.” 

The servant drew from a pocket a few keys, tried 
one or two, found one that fitted the look, and soon 
the door turned squeakingly upon its hinges. Joris 
crept slowly back till he was opposite the entrance, 
so as to observe what might take place. 

Geert Herman,” said the housemaid, who had 
gone halfway between the door and the prisoner, 
“ look me closely in the face. Do you not know 
me?’ She lifted the lamp to a level with her 
face, so that its full light fell upon her. 

Aalt,” stammered the robber, of Steen wyk !” 

Right ! You did not think you would meet me 
here, but I knew you hailed from somewhere in 
this region, though I could not discover your 
precise whereabouts. And now do you understand 
why I left Steeiiwyk to come here, and why I have 
endured the shameful maltreatment of the steward 
in the hope that some time or another I might come 
across your path ?” 

Tlie prisoner did not re})ly, but Joris observed 
that he put his right hand into a breast-pocket, as 
if he felt for something he would rather hide. 

And you fully comprehend what I want of you, 
Geert Herman,” said the servant, approaching a 
step nearer. have it in my power to give you 


THE RING AND THE GIRDLE. 


73 


your liberty. Look !” she continued, showing him 
a file. “ With this I can deliver you from this im- 
prisonment.” 

My leg is so wounded with knife-cuts that I 
could not get away,” said Geert Herman, as if 
looking for an excuse. 

I will give you linen with which you may bind 
your wounds and moisten them with water,” re- 
joined the woman; and, suiting the action to the 
words, she tore a piece olF her apron. 

‘^Give me that tool — that file,” commanded 
Geert. 

“ In return for two articles,” replied the house- 
maid. 

And what are they ?” asked Herman ; but from 
his manner it was evident that he well knew what 
she meant. 

The ring and the girdle.” 

No,” replied Geert, and he felt once more in 
his pocket ; I cannot give you these. The first 
may be of use to me some time, and the girdle 
will—” 

But you shall give them to me,” rejoined the 
girl, decisively. 

I do not let myself be commanded by a wom- 
an like you !” 

But that woman will go to Leyden this very 
night and call on Mr. Loth Huyghens Gael, the 
sheriff.” 


74 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


He cannot prove anything against me/' said the 
prisoner. ‘‘ I will myself become the accuser if the 
steward complains against me. None can prove that 
I have stolen anything, or even have stopped any 
one on the highway." 

You need not fear that the steward will make 
a complaint against you," remarked the woman, 
dryly. He has no relish, as you know, to fall un- 
der the notice of the sheriff. Still, I can keep him 
from letting you go." 

“ You ?" 

Yes, I. You know well enough that I have 
money, and the steward will do anything for money. 
For money he would even let you die here of star- 
vation, and, should that be done, these walls will 
never tell of it." 

The prisoner shuddered ; he knew that the stew- 
ard was quite capable of this. 

Therefore you had better give me the ring and 
the girdle," continued the housemaid. “ In return I 
will set you at liberty ; no one shall ever know what 
is now passing between us, and I shall never men- 
tion your name." 

The prisoner reflected a moment : 

I will wait till to-morrow. When the steward 
comes to me, I will offer him double what you can 
give him." 

But to-morrow Mr. Gael will be here," said the 
housemaid, positively. 


THE RING AND THE GIRDLE. 


75 


I have already told you that I do not fear him,” 
returned Geert. 

Nor yet when he makes you tell him what hap- 
pened six years ago at Steen wyk ?” 

Joris could plainly tell from the rattling of the 
chain that the prisoner was powerfully moved by 
this home-thrust. 

‘^He can prove nothing,” stammered Geert Her- 
man. 

^^But the sheriff will not come hither alone: 
Baron Jacob van Marnix and Major Dirk Grapertz 
will also testify against you. More than all, I will 
show them the place where the murder occurred ; 
they will dig up the very skeleton — ” 

Stop !” exclaimed Herman ; and Joris distinctly 
heard the fellow’s voice tremble with consterna- 
tion. 

You will give me those articles, then ?” inquired 
the woman. 

The prisoner seemed to be considering what to 
do ; he muttered something between his teeth. At 
last he said aloud. 

Undo my chains, Aalt, and I will give you 
those things.” 

Put them down upon that stone,” said the 
housemaid; ‘Ghere they will remain within your 
reach, and I will not take them until you have 
filed through that iron ring.” 

Geert Herman looked distrustfully at Aalt, and 


76 


THE SOLDIER^S WARD. 


after considering a little longer he did as she had 
indicated. A few moments later the ring around 
Herman’s leg was filed through, aud he felt himself 
a free man. 

The eyes of both Geert and the woman had been 
directed all along to the stone where lay the ring and 
the girdle, and the question now instinctively rose in 
the mind of each. Who shall be the first to seize 
them ? The moment the chain fell they both threw 
themselves headlong upon the coveted objects. A 
fierce struggle now ensued. The woman had the 
ring already in her hands, when Geert jerked it 
away from her with such violence that it fell into 
an opening back of the stone on which it had been 
laid. 

Give me the girdle !” cried the housemaid, in 
smothered tones, lying with her whole weight upon 
the hand in which the highway-robber held it 
clutched. 

You shall not have it !” exclaimed Geert Her- 
man, straining with all his might to release his 
hand. 

For some moments the two continued to struggle 
for the possession of the girdle. The woman, de- 
spairing of securing it in any other way, now 
sought to let it drop into the same hole into which 
the ring had fallen. With one quick jerk she suc- 
ceeded in effecting this. The robber now made a 
backward movement to release himself from the 


THE RING AND THE GIRDLE. 


77 


hands of the housemaid, but, hitting his foot against 
a stone, he fell on his back, upsetting the lamp in 
his fall and involving the whole cell in profound 
darkness. 

Joris thought that now it was time for him to get 
away from this place, and accordingly he crept back 
to his recess in the wall. At the same time a noise 
was lieard in the apartment of the steward. The first 
glimpses of the dawn became visible in the east, 
and, although Joris could not see what was taking 
place in the cell, he plainly heard Geert Herman 
climbing up through the window and running away 
from the house. 

I shall have to get out the same way,’^ reflected 
Joris, while the noise overhead increased. It is a 
pity that I do not know the exact spot where those 
articles have fallen ; I might make some good use 
of them.” 

A few moments later, and the dwarf heard the 
heavy tread of the steward ; and, fearing that he 
might be accused of having lent a hand in the es- 
cape of the highwayman, he now hastily proceeded 
to take advantage of the same means of egress from 
the mansion. 

Scarce had Joris gone when the steward entered 
the cell with a lamp. 

So the robber has made his escape ?” he mut- 
tered. Why did he not wait till morning? I 
would not have brought him before the sheriff. 


78 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


Those things cost money, and a poor man such as I 
am cannot spare that. But who assisted him ? It 
must have been Joris. There is no more honesty 
in this world.’’ 

Thus talking to himself, the steward was about 
to leave the cell and return to his room, when he 
became aware of the presence of the housemaid, 
whom he had not at first noticed, owing to the 
feeble light given by his lamp. 

Ah !” he said, taking her in no very gentle 
manner by the arm. Did you make this disturb- 
ance during the night? Did you make common 
cause with this highwayman? I will soon show 
you where the door is.” 

As the miser spoke he picked up the gifl as if 
she had been a child, carried her to the end of the 
hallway, opened the door and thrust her out with- 
out paying any attention to the remonstrances which 
she addressed to him. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE DEALER IN FINE LINEN EXPLAINS HI3L 
SELF. 

J UST outside of the pleasantly-situated village 
of Wasseuaar, at the place where begins the 
lane leading to the country-seat Duinrel, there 
stood at the time of our story a dwelling belong- 
ing to the wagonmaker Ledeganck. This man was 
known throughout that region for his sincere and 
upright Christian character. He did not belong to 
that class of people — of whom there were so many 
at that time — who make a great noise and display 
about their religious zeal, but with such gifts of 
grace as he possessed he modestly and quietly 
labored for the extension and edification of the 
Church of Christ. 

Wassenaar, as we have already said, was one of 
those villages in the vicinity of Leyden where the 
preaching of a spiritual gospel had met with espe- 
cial favor and success. This was particularly* due, 
as we likewise before remarked, to the wholesome 
influence exerted by colonies of Christians from 
England and Scotland who had found a refuge in 

79 


80 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


HollaDd and had settled in the city of Leyden. 
When the celebrated John Robinson and his 
followers — part of whom afterward went to Amer- 
ica and became the so-called Pilgrim Fathers of the 
American republic — settled in Leyden, about the 
year 1608 or 1609, they found English worship 
already established in the city and a Presbyterian 
congregation organized, with a regular pastor and 
worshiping in a church set apart by the courtesy 
of the magistrates of Leyden for their exclusive 
use. By their practices and preaching these Eng- 
lish or Scotch Presbyterians opened the eyes of 
many sincere Christians to the dangers of mere 
formalism and to the deadening influence of the 
State-Church system. The consequence was that 
assemblies and conferences were instituted with the 
view of promoting purity of doctrine and building 
up each other in their most holy faith, but, above 
all, aiming to bring the gospel to the attention of 
as many people as possible. The gatherings in the 
neighborhood of Wassenaar were usually held 
every Sunday afternoon at the house of the wag- 
onmaker Ledeganck, who was a warm friend of 
Walter Harmsen. The preaching of Harmsen had 
led many in this region to the knowledge and ex- 
perielice of salvation. Great was the affection 
which was felt for Walter, and therefore it was 
with no little satisfaction that the inhabitants of 
Wassenaar had learned that after an absence of 


THE DEALER IN FINE LINEN 


81 


some duration he would once more spend an after- 
noon and an evening in their midst. Expecting a 
great concourse of people, Ledeganck had extem- 
porized in his garden a sort of shed which could 
accommodate quite a number of hearers. 

Let us, then, follow the crowds that are filling 
this rude structure, and closely observe what is 
going on about us. The sundial indicated nearly 
four o’clock. It was a beautiful, mild Sabbath 
afternoon, and, although the appointed hour had 
not yet arrived, the frail wooden temple back of 
Ledeganck’s house was already more than full. 
People of all sorts and of all conditions had flocked 
together in this place. Here would be noticed the 
peasantry in their best Sunday garments; there, 
the servants of the neighboring nobility in their 
handsome liveries. Scattered among the audience 
sat fishermen and women from Katwyk, with here 
and there a sturdy forester, and mingling pleasant- 
ly with these ruder surroundings could be seen the 
innocent countenances of the village maidens of 
Wassenaar by the side of their staid and comforta- 
ble-looking mothers. A plain table stood at the 
farther end of the shed, and in front of this table 
lay a great block of wood evidently intended to 
furnish an elevated standing-place for the speaker. 

Not far from the table was seated a lady having 
beside her a fourteen-year-old girl whose dress, 
though severely plain and chaste, nevertheless ex- 


82 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


pressed the liigh rank to which the two belonged, 
though the indescribable air that high breeding and 
elegant society inevitably impress upon the man- 
ners and the person still more unmistakably in- 
dicated their high rank. They were the Lady Ve- 
ronica and her daughter, Walburg. On the counte- 
nance of each was easily to be read the deep satis- 
faction which she felt in being here and in the ex- 
pectation of hearing something to her edification. 
Next to Walburg was seated a man who at the first 
glance could be recognized as being or as having 
been in the army of the republic. The chances of 
war had deprived him of his right leg, which had 
been amputated below the knee, and many an hon- 
orable scar gave proof that he had found the war 
with the Spaniards a serious business. He carried 
on au occasional whispered convei’sation with Wal- 
burg, and one not too far removed from them could 
have heard the latter address him as “ major.’^ 

All eyes begin to turn to the door through which 
the evangelist is expected to enter. Just before the 
appointed time it is opened, and Ledeganck, followed 
by Walter Harmsen, enters the wooden tent. The 
former seats himself not far from Lady Veronica*, 
and Walter takes his stand upon the block of wood, 
otfers a short and simple prayer of invocation and 
announces for singing a few verses of a psalm of 
the Dathenus collection.* 

* A word as to these psalms may not be out of place nor 


THE DEALER IN FINE LINEN 


83 


DuriDg the singing Walter allowed his eyes to 
rove over the multitude in search of familiar faces. 
With particular anxiety he sought for a person 
whom he greatly wished to see among his audi- 
ence, but he looked in vain along the several rows 
of seats, and even among the people standing, until 
through the wide space at the opposite end of the 
tent there entered the man in question. It was 
none other than the little Joris Ruikmans, but he 
W’as not alone : he was accompanied by a woman 
who was tall enough to have carried him on her arm. 

witliout interest. Dathenus was one of the earliest and the 
boldest field-preachers who might ever be charged with too 
great a fierceness in the attacks upon Romanism. From the 
French versification of Marot and Beza he translated the Psalms 
of David into Dutch rhyme. In 1574, at the first synod held 
within the republic, this version of the Psalms was directed to 
be sung in the Reformed churches of Holland. As already 
mentioned, St. Aldegonde published his versification of the 
Psalms in 1591. He drew his inspiration directly from the 
original language. He wielded a poet’s pen, and yet the rude 
second-hand rhymes of the fierce field-preacher continued to be 
the authorized psalms for the worship of song until the year 
1773, when by commission of the States-General a much-needed 
change was effected, and a collection of rhymed Psalms was 
•made and authorized to be used; this collection contained 
some very fine specimens of Dutch poetry. Hence, at a pub- 
lic service such as we are describing, held in the year 1598, 
though it was of so free and unecclesiastical a character, it is not 
strange that we encounter the version of Dathenus instead of 
that of St. Aldegonde, because the people were more generally 
familiar with the former. 


84 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


Harmsen surmised at once that this was the man- 
ikin^s wife; his surmise gained strength when he 
noticed that the woman held by the hand a boy 
about nine years of age. The little fellow seemed 
to have but small inclination to go into the shed 
with his foster-parents, nor was he to be pacified 
or reconciled to the idea of doing so until the wom- 
an had bent down and whispered something in his 
ear, and, having lifted him up, had pointed in the 
direction where the major and the Lady Walburg 
’were seated. Joris busied himself endeavoring to 
secure a seat, but, not succeeding, he left this to his 
wife, who managed with better success, landing be- 
tween two farming-people and appropriating a seat 
for herself and her foster-child. Joris took up his 
position back of them, partially leaning upon his 
wife’s shoulder, thus obtaining a good opportunity 
for observing the audience. 

The singing being ended, Walter olFered another 
fervent prayer, asking the assistance of the Holy 
Spirit, opened the Bible which lay upon the table, 
and announced the text which would form the ba- 
sis for his remarks. The words were these : And 
to her [the Lamb’s wife] was granted that she should* 
be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white ; for the 
fine linen is the righteousness of saints.” After 
a brief introduction explaining the connection of 
the text, Walter told the people that he had come 
among them to open the market of free grace. He 


THE DEALER IN FINE LINEN 


85 


was a merchant — or, rather, the agent of a mer- 
chant — commissioned by a great and rich King, the 
King of heaven and earth. He had brought with 
him the goods which were at the disposal of his 
Lord, and which he was appointed to sell : these 
goods were of fine linen,^^ which is the righteous- 
ness of saints.^^ But the righteousness of saints 
is identical with the righteousness of Christ, in so 
far as it is a justifying righteousness. 

Next, Harmsen went on to declare what was the 
nature and what were the virtues of this fine 
linen he called attention to the fact that there 
was nothing upon earth that could equal this linen 
in quality, purity, strength or beauty ; that it was 
highly expedient that his hearers should all seek 
to be possessed of this fine linen in the way that 
Scripture itself recommended^by buying it. If 
they did not do so, it must be for either of two rea- 
sons — that they were not in need of it, or that they 
had no money. But the goods which he wished to 
recommend every one most pressingly needed. He 
who did not possess the fine linen might well be con- 
sidered naked, blind, miserable and to be great- 
ly pitied. Without that fine linen about the per- 
son none was permitted nor should dare to appear 
before God. But possibly there were some there 
present who would be glad to purchase, but were 
without money ? Wliosoever was in such a case 
must understand that the market of which he was 


86 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


speaking might with justice be called the free mar- 
ket of God’s grace, since these goods which he 
was holding up for sale in the name of Him who 
sent him were obtainable altogether without money 
and without price. Those who insisted upon giving 
something of this kind for their possession might as 
well depart at once, for such could not in this way 
purchase the fine linen. 

‘^Now, then,” Walter said, in conclusion, “is 
there no one here who will purchase this fine lin- 
en of me? Must I go back to my Lord and say, 

‘ Lord, many came together to be present at the 
gospel services, many appeared at the market of 
free grace, but no one would believe that he was 
a poor sinner and lacked the robe of righteousness ; 
no one would believe that he stood in need of thy 
righteousness, and that he might purchase this with- 
out money and without price only by a hearty and 
sincere faith in Christ’ ? Shall I report thus to my 
Lord ? Will you return as you came — poor, wretch- 
ed, blind, halt, naked ? I ask you once more : 
Will no one here buy this fine linen ? Does none 
here hunger after the righteousness of Christ?” 

' The evangelist ceased speaking. The entire 
audience seemed to be deeply impressed. 

“Mother,” whispered Walburg in Lady Veron- 
ica’s ear, “I should gladly shout it out in the 
hearing of all that with all my heart I desire 
this fine linen.” 


THE DEALER IN FINE LINEN 


87 


you not already possess it, child?” an- 
swered Lady Veronica, equally low. ‘^Did you 
not bend your knees with me this morning and 
call upon the Lord as your Saviour?” 

Walburg answered not, but her moistened eyes 
gave testimony to the depth of feeling within her. 

How beautiful !” whispered Joris to his wife. 
“ I never hear anything like that from my priest.” 

' Beautiful ’ ?” replied Dame Ruikmans, with 
difficulty restraining her voice to an undertone, 
and turning an indignant look upon her husband. 

^ BeautifuL? That’s not the word for what you 
have heard. It is the truth — nothing but the 
truth. What can you get from your priest? He 
offers you linen that is torn into shreds. — Be still, 
Walburgius,” she continued, addressing the boy, 
who lay half reclining on her lap and seemed a 
little restless ; it will soon be over, and then we 
will go home or stay here over-night, as the Lord 
wills.” 

Thus in every direction heads were seen to 
approach each other, evidently for the purpose 
of communicating the impression which the address 
had made. In many an eye glistened a tear and 
from many a heart rose the unspoken resolution, 
^^I will accept the conditions and buy without 
money and without price.” 

After a brief application and another psalm a 
concluding prayer of thanksgiving was just about 


88 


THE SOLDIER WARD. 


to be offered by Walter, when a sudden stir occurred 
among the audience, all eyes being directed to the 
entrance nearest the speaker, where appeared a mau 
whose forbidding aspect was well calculated to 
inspire fear. When Joris saw this man, he bent 
down close to his wife’s back, and behind that of 
the peasant sitting next to her, with what looked 
very much like a desire to hide himself. 

“ Wife,” he said, there he is.” 

“Who?” she inquired. 

“ Geert Herman, the cloth-weaver, who escaped 
this night from the Wyngaerden House, and of 
whom I have been telling you.” 

“ But I hope you are not afraid of him?” she said, 
reproachfully, and whispering, so as not to disturb 
her neighbors. “You are safe here. Besides, he 
did not see you in the cell.” 

“Yes, but wliy is he here? Look! that one- 
eyed Fleming stands by his side now. They must 
have their eye on us.” 

In spite of the disturbance caused by the appear- 
ance of these formidable characters, the evangel- 
ist, who in the course of his labors had encountered 
far worse interruptions than this, had quietly gone 
on with his prayer of thanksgiving. Having con- 
cluded this, he dismissed the assembly, and the 
people began to scatter. Ledeganck and Walter 
Harmseu went to the former’s house, followed by 
the major. Lady Veronica and Walburg, and a few 


THE DEALER IN FINE LINEN. 


89 


friends who were to spend the evening at Lede- 
ganck’s. 

Geert Herman and his confederates had left the 
village with the dispersing multitude and retired 
to their rendezvous in the neighboring sandhills. 
There they continued a long time in consultation. 
When they separated, Geert Herman alone took the 
road leading to the wagoumaker’s house. 

Joris waited till the great crowd had dispersed, 
and then went to Ledeganck’s house, where he 
hoped to find a safe refuge in the vicinity of the 
relatives of Lord St. Aldegonde. In this hope 
he w^as not disappointed, for Walburg was greatly 
rejoiced to see the major’s ward and her namesake. 
But Joris could not gain access to the evangelist to 
confide to him certain matters which oppressed his 
mind, for Walter Harmsen was too constantly held 
in conversation about various matters by surround- 
ing friends. Joris, however, obtained permission 
from Ledeganck to stay over-night at his liouse. 
Our manikin could not get out of his mind the 
appearance of those two highwaymen at the door 
of the shed. What could have been their de- 
sign ? Whither had they gone ? There could be 
no question that they were hatching mischief, 
and with ever-greater force the conviction grew 
upon him that this mischief had something to do 
with little Walburgius. The few words dropped 
from the mouth of Bardes when he was taunting 


90 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Gecrt Herman, together with the housemaicFs dark 
hints, seemed to have but one interpretation. 

While Walter Harmsen was still busily engaged 
in conversation with his friends, one of Ledeganck’s 
workmen entered the room with the announcement 
that in the shed there was some one who was desir- 
ous of having an interview with Mr. Harmsen. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE CABIN IN THE SANDHILLS. 





HO is it, Hein ?” inquired Ledeganck of his 
man. 


I cannot say, master. I don’t think I know 
the man, and, at any rate, it was too dark to tell 
how he looked.” 

But how is he dressed, Hein ? Is he an old or 
a young man ?” inquired Ledeganck. 

^^He is dressed like a burgher, but poorly. I 
should say he must be rather old, for he is much 
bent and leaned heavily upon his stick.” 

Let the man come in,” said Walter, whose heart 
was filled with pity, as he judged that it might be a 
person who had been aroused by the preaching and 
wanted to converse about his soul. 

I have told him to do so already, Mr. Harm- 
sen,” said the laborer, but he wishes to see you 
privately,” 

I shall go,” said Walter; and he rose to follow 
the man into the shed, but Walburg took his hand 
and held him back. 

“What do you wish, dear?” inquired Walter. 

91 


92 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


I am so afraid that there is some one out there 
who wants to do you harm/^ said the little maiden, 
with evident concern. 

‘^He who is under the protection of the Most 
High need fear no evil. You will see me come back 
in a moment ; then we will all go home together.’^ 

‘^But I am so afraid. Cannot you take some 
one along 

“Shall I, then, place my confidence in man rather 
than in God ? Compose yourself, dear ; I shall re- 
turn immediately.’^ 

These words had been exchanged 'mostly in whis- 
pers overheard by none except Lady Veronica, who 
without giving expression to it shared her daugh- 
ter’s apprehension, especially since Joris had in- 
formed her that two highway-robbers had stood at 
the entrance of the shed just before the close of the 
meeting. She communicated this circumstance to 
Walter, who set her mind at ease by calling her 
attention to Hein’s description, from which it ap- 
peared that this was a feeble old man who wished 
to converse with him. Walter pressed little Wal- 
burg’s hand once more, and then left the house. 

Meantime, it had grown nearly dark, and, as the 
shed was intended for use only in the daytime, it 
did not admit the feeble twilight that still reigned 
outside. It was with some difficulty that the evan- 
gelist found his way among misplaced and over- 
turned benches and reached the place where the 


THE CABIN IN THE SANDHILLS. 


93 


stranger was awaiting him. Hein certainly was 
not deceived in the man^s appearance, for Walter 
found him veritably bent down beneath the burden 
of years. He approached him and said in a kind- 
ly manner, 

What is it you wish with me, old man 

Are you not the preacher who a little while ago 
spoke in this shed and gave utterance to such edify- 
ing words inquired the aged one, in trembling 
accents. 

Walter was rejoiced to hear these words ; they 
banished from his heart whatever suspicious he had 
permitted it to harbor in deference to the fears of 
W alburg and her mother. Assured now that some 
one had come to him who wished to purchase the 
fine linen he had freely offered to needy souls, he 
replied. 

Yes, aged friend ; I am the same. Do you 
desire enlightenment ? Do you wish to speak 
with me about the Lord ? Come with me into the 
house ; there are several more who have an interest 
in their eternal salvation.” 

I thank you, I thauk you, worthy sir,” replied 
the old man ; and he nodded his head several times, 
as many old and feeble persons are apt to do. I 
thank you, but I must tell you that I have not 
come to you so much on my own account as for my 
son. That poor boy suffers from a painful malady, 
and one of your audience has been telling him so 


94 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


much of what you said that he has conceived a great 
longing to converse with you personally/^ 

Where is he? Where is he?’^ inquired Wal- 
ter, eagerly. I shall go to him without delay.” 

He is not far from here ; we live in a small 
cabin situated a little way among the sandhills. 
Oh, if you only knew how greatly he longs to see 
you ! I could not resist his request to summon 
you, but am come, in spite of my years and my 
difficulty in traveling, in the hope that you might 
heed our request.” 

Most gladly, friend,” exclaimed Walter, wrap- 
ping his cloak about his shoulders. “ I am ready 
to go with you at once.” 

But it is nearly dark, worthy sir,” said the old 
man. “ Will you not take a lantern with you ?” 

It is not at all necessary to do so, aged friend,” 
rejoined Walter. Surely you know the way? 
Let us proceed ; every moment that we delay may 
be hurtful to your son. Give me your arm, friend ; 
then you can lean on me, and we can get along so 
much the better and, offering his arm to the old 
man, he insisted upon going at once. In his zeal 
to serve others in the things of Christ, Walter for- 
got that there were those in the house to whom he 
would occasion great anxiety by any prolonged ab- 
sence. 

The way was not long, but was difficult because 
of the deep sand. The old man seemed to find it 


THE CABIN IN THE SANDHILLS. 


95 


particularly so, especially when a sandhill had to be 
climbed. But finally they stood before a sort of 
cabin constructed out of various old and rude ma- 
terials. No light shone from within, and it would 
have been impossible for Walter to have found a 
living creature within it if the old man had not 
taken him by the hand and led him to a corner 
of the hut whence he now heard proceeding feeble 
groans. 

Walter Harmsen could not, of course, distinguish 
the features of the person who uttered these sounds, 
yet it seemed to him as if they were the expression 
of anxiety rather than of pain. This conviction 
grew upon him the longer he listened, and, having 
had frequent experience of similar cases, he made 
up his mind to proclaim the gospel to the poor 
sutferer with all earnestness, trusting that, in spite 
of the untoward surroundings, the Lord would 
make it bear fruit sooner or later. 

Do you desire to speak with me asked he, 
after for some time in vain waiting for the sufferer 
to begin the interview. 

A sigh which might be interpreted as an affirm- 
ative answer escaped from the person who was lying 
prostrate on some moss scattered under him upon 
the floor, while the old man occupied another corner 
of the apartment and remained standing. 

What is it you wish ? Are you ill inquired 
Walter, bending on one knee. 


96 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD, 


He is subject to fits,” the old man explained ; 
and when he comes out of one of these attacks, 
he is very much exhausted and has much pain. 
This is now the case with him.” 

Is he not able to speak at such a time ?” asked 
Harmsen. 

Sometimes not,” was the reply. 

At this moment Walter could just discern enter- 
ing the cabin a third person, who took his place by 
the side of the old man without saying a word. 

Can you not raise yourself a little ?” said Wal- 
ter to the sufferer ; and, taking him by the arm, he 
attempted to help the man to a sitting posture, in 
which effort he succeeded. ‘‘Now tell me,” con- 
tinued he, “ what you desire of me.” 

“ I have a secret — that oppresses me,” began the 
sufferer, who was evidently speaking with a painful 
effort. 

“ What is this secret ?” inquired Walter. 

“ I cannot reveal it to you.” 

“ To whom, then, can you do so ?” 

“To the steward of Wyngaerden House.” 

“ Well, had you not better go to him, then, or ask 
him to come here?” said Walter, slightly disap- 
pointed. 

“ The first I cannot do, and the second he will 
not consent to do,” sighed the sick man. 

“ What, then, do you wish of me ?” asked Wal- 
ter. 


THE CABIN IN THE SANDHILLS. 


97 


I will tell you/’ responded the old man. He 
thinks that you more than any one else will be able 
to persuade the steward to come here. There are 
certain reasons why he cannot go to the steward, 
but there is one thing which perhaps will compel 
the steward to come to him.^^ 

But I have not the least acquaintance with that 
person,’^ objected Walter. 

That makes no difference,” said the old man. 

You will shortly have an opportunity of visiting 
Wyngaerden House, as, according to information 
that we have obtained, the upper portions of the 
mansion are to be rented by a French lady of your 
acquaintance.” 

A French lady of my acquaintance ?” queried 
Harmseu, not a little wondering that in this wretch- 
ed cabin his personal friendships seemed to be so 
well known. 

More than that I do not know about it,” re- 
joined the old man. “But, supposing this to be 
the fact, would you not be in a condition to use 
your influence and persuade the steward to visit 
this cabin?” 

“Taking it for granted,” Walter replied, “that 
you have been correctly informed, and that I ac- 
cede to your request, I still very much doubt 
whether the steward can be persuaded to come 
hither, because, as I have heard, he seldom or 
never leaves home, and certainly not alone.” 

7 


98 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


He need not come alone,” rejoined the other ; 
he may bring as many of his laborers with him as 
he pleases, if only we know the day and the hour 
of his coming.” 

Walter reflected a moment ; it all seemed so mys- 
terious and strange that he did not know what to 
say. However, once being here, he felt that he 
must suit himself to the circumstances in carrying 
out the purpose he had in mind. 

“ What arguments shall I employ to induce the 
steward to visit this hut ?” he asked. 

“ St. Luke’s — ” gasped the sufferer. 

“ What do you mean by that ?” inquired Harm- 
sen. 

I believe,” the old man continued, that it is 
his intention to ask you simply to mention these 
words to the steward. The eighteenth of this 
month is St. Luke’s day, and the reminder of that 
date will be sufficient to convince him of the neces- 
sity of coming here. Will you do this ?” 

cannot promise you,” replied Walter; but 
whenever I shall have an opportunity of visiting 
at Wyngaeixlen House, I shall mention to the stew- 
ard that you wished me to ask him to come and see 
you.” 

“ This was not our intention,” observed the man 
who had last entered the hut, and whose accent be- 
trayed the Fleming. 

What, then, was your intention ?” asked Wal- 


THE CABIN IN THE SANDHILLS. 


99 


ter, quickly, beginning to suspect that it might be 
anything but a legitimate one. 

That you should try and persuade the steward 
to come to this cabin without telling him that you 
had been here yourself,’^ was the answer. 

How can I do that 

By simply reminding him of St. Luke’s day,” 
said the same man, somewhat gruffly. 

Meanwhile, the sufferer seemed to have regained 
some of his strength ; at least, he gently drew Wal- 
ter toward him and whispered close in his ear : 

I would so much like to see you alone — when 
those two are not here.” 

‘^How shall that be done?” whispered Walter, 
in reply. 

To-morrow afternoon they will not be at home ; 
could you come then ? Then we shall be alone.” 

will try,” answered Walter, struck by the 
mournful tones of the sufferer’s voice. He con- 
cluded from these few words that there really must 
be something that oppressed his soul of which he 
would like to make a clean breast, but which he 
was prevented from doing only by the presence 
of his two companions. 

The whispered conversation, however, excited 
the suspicions of these men. The man who spoke 
with the Flemish accent approached the place 
where the sufferer was lying, and asked in harsh 
tones. 


100 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


Have you said more than was agreed between 

usr 

‘^How can you speak so roughly to the poor 
man?^’ said Walter. ‘^Do you not know how 
weak and ill he is?” 

“ Oh, he will not die of it,” said the Fleming, 
mockingly. 

^^You do not know that, any more than you 
know whether you yourself will be living to- 
morrow.” 

^‘Well, and what of that?” said the man. 

^^What of thatM” said Walter, shocked by these 
heedless words. ^^Do you not remember that 
above us there is a God who hears your reckless 
language and before whose judgment-seat you will 
have to stand ?” 

The Fleming growled between his teeth, and 
after whispering something to the old man he left 
the cabin. 

trust you do not feel as this man does?” 
said Walter to the sufferer, who had thrown him- 
self back upon the floor. 

I am so afraid !” he sighed. 

“With the Lord there are always to be found 
help and deliverance,” Walter assured him. “ If 
you confess your sins to God and take refuge in 
Jesus Christ, who will be your Saviour, all your 
fear and anxiety will be taken away. Your sins 
cannot be so great nor so many but pardon will be 


THE CABIN IN THE SANDHILLS. 101 


granted you. The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth 
from all sin. Will you believe this ?” 

The sufferer said nothing, but from the pressure 
of his hand Walter concluded that his words were 
not unwelcome. He regretted that the sick man 
had not opened his whole heart to him, but, ascrib- 
ing this to the reason he had explained to him in 
whispers, he thought it best not to say much now, 
and to visit him again on the morrow. 

After some more words about the great love of God, 
W'ho had given to the world his only begotten Son, 
and after a short prayer, Walter prepared to leave 
the cabin. The old man offered to accompany him 
for some distance to show him the way, but Wal- 
ter declined the offer. He said the night was not so 
very dark, that he was accustomed to travel among 
the sandhills, and that he would soon reach Lede- 
ganck’s house. 

Walter accordingly took his leave, and was soon 
on his way to the village. He was not yet halfway 
from it when he heard voices calling out in seve- 
ral directions. He plainly distinguished his own 
name, and, conjecturing that his friends had grown 
uneasy about his long absence and were now search- 
ing for him, he called back to them. A few min- 
utes later, and Ledeganck and two of his men 
came up with him, expressing their joy at his 
safety. 

“We have all been in great anxiety about you,” 


102 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


said the former. We were every moment expect- 
ing you to re-enter the room ; but when you did 
not come, we ventured to intrude upon your inter- 
view with the stranger. When we came into the 
shed, you were nowhere to be seen ; then all sorts 
of fears rose up within us, and we have been every- 
where looking for you. At last we fortunately met 
some one who had seen two men leave the village 
for the sandhills. Has harm befallen you?’’ 

None at all, friend Ledeganck,” replied Walter. 

I am grateful for your zeal, but you know it is 
written, ^ He that dwelleth in the secret place of 
the Most High shall abide under the shadow of 
the Almighty.’ ” 


CHAPTER X. 


A LETTER FROM ABROAD. 

T he remainder of the Sabbath evening was 
spent by Walter Harmsen and his friends at 
the house of Ledeganck. The time fled rapidly as 
prayer succeeded prayer; the exchange of happy 
experiences of the Lord’s goodness and the Sav- 
iour’s love was delightful and comforting, while 
the little gathering frequently burst forth into some 
psalm or spiritual song spontaneously suggested by 
the drift of the conversation. 

Walter sought occasion to have with Joris Ruik- 
mans a private conference, at which Joris’s wife 
was present. Joris told him of his experiences 
after they separated on the previous evening. As 
they were about to part Walter said, 

“ Well, Joris, was I not right in telling you that 
I was a dealer in fine linen, and that such goods are 
best offered for sale on Sunday ?” 

‘^You were right, Mr. Harmsen,” assented Jo- 
ris. did not know that such wares were to 

be obtained for nothing ; I had never been taught 
that.” 


103 


104 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


But you might have known it/^ interrupted his 
wife, “ if only you had been willing to listen to me 
or to the precious sermons of our preachers. But 
you are obstinate and will still heed your priests, who 
with their idolatries and fables keep you upon the 
way to perdition. — Ah, worthy sir,” she continued, 
addressing Walter, ^‘you do not know how he 
grieves me with his continued adherence to the 
Bomish faith. — But this I assure you,” turning 
with sudden heat upon Joris, ‘Hhat if you bring 
another popish picture into the house I shall throw 
it into the fire.” 

Hush ! hush ! Compose yourself. Dame Riiik- 
mans,” soothingly observed Walter Harmsen. “ If 
you wish to defend our Protestant faith so vigor- 
ously, it were best to show that it is a matter of the 
heart more than one of the head. Scripture directs 
us to be gentle and meek. Such methods as you 
propose and follow will not convince your husband 
of his errors, but will much rather embitter him 
against the truth. Continue to point him to the 
love of Jesus ; that will be more efficacious than 
noise and disputation.” 

Turning to Joris, Walter continued : 

I hope with all my heart, my friend, that what 
you have heard this evening may make an abiding 
impression upon you. Believe me, you can find as- 
surance of salvation in nothing except in the ac- 
ceptance by a hearty faith of the cross of Christ. 


A LETTER FROM ABROAD. 


105 


Think more about that than about your temporal 
anxieties and fears. As to your experience at Wyn- 
gaerden House, I shall mention your case to the 
steward as soon as I meet him. I am glad you 
are very soon to bring your foster-son to Lord St. 
Aldegoiide’s house to spend a few days there. I 
hope to see more of you then, and to have more 
conversation with you than is now possible about 
these matters.^^ 

Walburg, in the mean time, had found an oppor- 
tunity for some talk with her little proteg^. It 
caused her great grief to discover how his heart 
was filled with a longing for his fatherland and 
his relatives. Gladly would she have been able to 
assure him that he would soon be restored to them, 
but she could do no more than encourage him in 
the hope that her prayers for the fulfillment of 
these wishes might ere long be answered in a way 
that could not now be foreseen. 

It was at length high time for these Christian 
friends to separate. Joris and his wife and Wal- 
burgius, for fear of the latter’s being kidnapped by 
the highwaymen, were to remain over-night at 
Ledeganck’s house. A wagon with a stout team 
of horses was held in readiness by the wagonma- 
ker to take Lady Veronica and her daughter, with 
Walter and the major, to the house of Lord Philip. 
Walter invited them all to kneel down for a part- 
ing prayer, which he requested the major to offer. 


106 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD, 


Our friends had reached the high-road between 
The Hague and Leyden, aud were just about to 
turn into it in the direction of the latter city, when 
the galloping of an approaching horse was heard, and 
ere long a man ou horseback stopped and called out 
to the servant who preceded the horses with a torch, 
asking, 

^^Is the Lady Veronica van Marnix in that 
wagon 

Yes,’^ replied the servant. 

Did that man call my name inquired Lady 
Veronica. 

Yes, noble lady,’’ was the reply. 

Meantime, the man on horseback had come close 
to the wagon, and Walburg and her mother rec- 
ognized in him a peasant who lived near St. Al- 
degonde’s house. He informed them that Lord 
Philip had requested him to go to Wassenaar aud 
ask Lady Veronica and her daughter to return 
home as quickly as possible, inasmuch as Baron 
Jacob had been attacked by sudden illness; the 
peasant could not inform them precisely as to the 
nature of the sickness. Having delivered his 
message, he turned his horse’s head, and, putting 
the spurs to him, he galloped on to let St. Alde- 
gonde know that his children and his guests were 
on the way to his house. It was a sad ending to 
a day that had been so happy for Lady Veronica 
and Walburg. 


A LETTER FROM ABROAD. 


107 


Baron Jacob, who was subject to lung-troubles, 
had about seven o’clock in the evening been taken 
with a violent coughing-spell, causing him to raise 
much blood. Lord Philip had at once sent to Ley- 
den for the family physician ; but when he per- 
ceived an increase rather than an abatement of 
the distress, he felt that the wife and the daughter 
should at once be sent for also. When they entered 
the sick-room, the doctor had been there, and had 
left again after prescribing and administering some 
medicines and giving strict orders not to allow the 
patient to hold convei’sation with any one. Lord 
Philip, who forgot his own sufferings while minis- 
tering to his son, sat by the side of the bed, keep- 
ing his eyes fixed upon the sick man’s countenance 
and fearing that another attack might occur at any 
moment and perhaps prove to be the last. With- 
out speaking, as the wife and daughter entered all 
three sank upon their knees by the bedside and 
poured forth their hearts in silent prayer. The 
patient, however, remained undisturbed by any 
further attacks that evening, the soothing medicines 
having wrought a happy effect. 

After an hour’s watching. Lord Philip left his 
son to the care of Lady Veronica and Walburg 
and went to welcome his guests, the major and 
Walter Harmsen, who had refrained from intrud- 
ing themselves upon the family group in the sick- 
chamber. The aged statesman greeted them cor- 


108 


THE SOLDIER WARD. 


dially and expressed himself much comforted by 
their presence. 

How little it takes to bring a person to the 
brink of the grave he remarked. Let but the 
breath fail a moment, and the strongest man is no 
more.’^ 

^‘Does there seem less danger than at first?” 
inquired the major. 

1 am still greatly in fear of the worst, but am 
not without hope,” replied St. Aldegonde. Much 
do I wish that my sou may survive me. Still, if I 
must bear this disappointment and great grief, the 
Lord will strengthen me ; and his will be done !” 

‘^Esteemed sir,” spoke Walter Harmsen, ^‘your 
words are worthy of your Christian faith. I do 
indeed trust — yea, know — that if God should take 
your son from you he would give you abundant 
strength to drink that bitter cup to its dregs. A 
Christian ever experiences the consolation and the 
nearness of his Father in heaven according to his 
need. Where others would have cause for despair 
he is supported.” 

^‘Your observation is very true, friend Harm- 
sen,” returned St. Aldegonde. Never was I more 
greatly tried than when I lost the dearest friend I 
ever had upon earth. It is now more than four- 
teen years since that memorable tenth of July, in 
1584, when the hand of an assassin took the pre- 
cious life of William the Silent. With what a fear- 


A LETTER FROM ABROAD. 


109 


fill shock the news of this event overwhelmed me 
you may well imagine, for you know how closely we 
were bound to each other. In the first moments I 
rebelled against God, for not only had I lost my 
beloved personal friend, but the State had lost its 
head and hand and the people had lost a father. 
What was to become of all the labors, toils, sacri- 
fices, sorrows, of many painful years? It seemed 
as if there could be no wise and loving Providence 
overruling the destinies of men, for how could he 
have permitted such a dastardly murder and so dis- 
astrous a misfortune to the cause of liberty and re- 
ligion ? But I was led by the Spirit to better and 
wiser thoughts. I reflected that if God had struck the 
blow he would apply the healing balm — that out of 
this seeming wreck and ruin of Holland's hopes he 
could bring glorious results. And he has indeed 
done so. But I thanked God even then that he 
gave me these better thoughts and stopped my 
rebellious murmuring, for it was very sinful and 
destructive of all comfort.’’ 

The physician made a second visit, bringing oth- 
er medicines. He pronounced the patient out of 
immediate danger, but recommended great care. 
Accordingly, Lady Veronica insisted that Lord 
Philip and his guests should retire, while she, 
with one of the servants, remained to watch by 
Baron Jacob’s side and to administer the cordials 
at the appointed times. 


110 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


Thus temporarily relieved from anxiety, the aged 
father consented to repair to his bedchamber, after 
conducting Walter and Major Gapertz to theirs. 
They had been in this room but a little time when 
a housemaid knocked at the door and handed Wal- 
ter a letter, saying that it had been brought to the 
house late in the afternoon by some one from Ley- 
den. Harmsen at once recognized the handwriting 
as that of Lady Jacoba van Vlooswyk. Having 
opened the letter and run over its contents, he as- 
certained that, as he had supposed from her former 
writing, and from her announcement to Walburg, 
she was now on her way to her fatherland. The 
letter was dated at Brussels, where she was to stop 
several days to recover from the fatigue of her jour- 
ney from France, but she w’ould leave that city so as 
to reach The Hague about the middle of October. 

After gathering this gratifying information from 
a hasty glance over the many pages, Walter told his 
friend of it, and then went over the letter more 
carefully, occasionally reading portions of it to the 
major. The epistle contained many interesting par- 
ticulars about the father of Lady Jacoba, her en- 
counters on the journey, and her expected visit to 
the land of her fathers after so many years. A 
great part of it was devoted to the expression of 
her gratitude to God and of her joy in the grow- 
ing experiences of the Christian life. At one place 
she wrote as follows ; 


A LETTER FROM ABROAD. 


Ill 


I find the journey much more fatiguing than I 
had supposed, and I certainly would not have per- 
severed so far had not my desire been so strong to 
meet you and many other friends. Yet the Lord 
has been my Helper in this as in so many other 
things. Indeed, his guidance has been quite re- 
markable in one particular. At a certain stage of 
the journey I was taken sick, and was compelled 
for a few days to cease traveling. This was in 
the southern part of Flanders, near the city of Cour- 
trai. It was a great disappointment to me, but the 
Lord turned it into an occasion of great joy. I was 
entertained by a lady who was in circumstances of 
peculiar affliction, and who stood in great need of 
the consolations of the gospel. But there was other 
help which I believed I could render her. Of this 
I will tell you nothing now, because everything is 
in uncertainty; but you may render me much aid 
when I am come to The Hague. I have persuaded 
her to accompany me, and she will arrive at the same 
time with myself. On this account I do not feel 
at liberty to avail myself of the hospitality of little 
Walburg’s parents or grandfather, but would ask 
you to do me a favor. Walburg has written me 
that Wyngaerden House can be rented by parties 
visiting the country, and she has caused inquiries 
to be made there whether my companion and my- 
self can just now be accommodated. The answer 
having been in the affirmative, may I ask you 


112 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


to cDgage these apartments for my Flemish friend 
and myself, with our suite of attendants and 
servants ? Pray do so at once on receipt of this, 
lest otherwise it be too late. I long to meet Wal- 
burg and her relatives; she must be a lovely 
girl, and certainly is remarkably advanced in her 
Christian experience, though it is entirely child- 
like, withal. It will be both an honor and a de- 
light to me to make the familiar acquaintance 
of her distinguished grandfather. His name is 
one ever mentioned with reverence and esteem in 
the Huguenot circles in France with which father 
and I come in contact.’^ 

Walter Harmsen and his friend read these and 
other portions of the letter with the keenest inter- 
est and enjoyment. The major expressed his delight 
at the evidences of rich spiritual experience where- 
with it abounded. 

I may well say,” he observed at the close, that 
the pupil has given her teacher no cause to be 
ashamed of her.” 

‘‘Say, rather, dear Dirk, that she is an apt 
scholar of the Holy Ghost himself. Let us pray 
the Lord that nothing may hinder her further 
progress, and that she may soon be safe and hap- 
py in our midst.” 

“What can she mean by the allusion to the 
Flemish lady and her peculiar circumskinces ?” 
wondered the major. 


A LETTER FROM ABROAD. 


113 


know no more about it than you do, major. 
She has never before alluded to this woman in any 
of her letters, for, as you noticed, she met her for 
the first time on this journey.’’ 

After some further conversation to which the 
contents of the letter or the sickness of the baron 
gave occasion, the friends retired to rest with 
fervent prayers for the recovery of their host’s 
son and the safe arrival of Lady Vlooswyk. 

8 


CHAPTER XI. 


AT THE SIEGE OF STEENWYK* 

W E now need to take a brief look at what had 
haj3pened in the political affairs of the Dutch 
republic during the twenty years which we have 
added to the lives of some of the characters in 
our tale. 

The great event of the year 1579, when we took 
leave of our friends, was the Union of Utrecht, 
which bound the seven provinces of the North 
into a confederacy for the defence of their civil 
liberties against Spanish tyranny and the main- 
tenance of their liberty of conscience against the 
spiritual assumptions of the papal Church. The 
next event of importance was the formal and final 
abjuration of the king of Spain. Strange to say, 
although they had revolted against his authority 
and fought the armies he had sent to subdue them, 
yet by a sort of legal fiction his sovereignty over 
the provinces as hereditary lord had been all along 
acknowledged. It was supposed to be his gover- 
nors and generals who were at fault and who were 

* This chapter is interpolated by the translator. 

114 


AT THE SIEGE OF STEEN WYK. 


115 


seeking to oppress the people, and whom, therefore, 
in the interest of and in obedience to the king, the 
provinces were opposing ; but this fiction was at last 
wiped out, and the frank and straightforward issue 
boldly taken that the king of Spain had forfeited 
his sovereignty over the united provinces, and that 
his authority must be abjured. This was done in 
the year 1581. 

On the 10th of July, 1584, a tremendous ca- 
lamity befell the republic. More than one had been 
excited by the price set upon the head of the prince 
of Orange by the king of Spain ; such were assured 
by Jesuitical priests that to rid the world of so great 
a heretic and rebel would be an act meritorious in 
the eyes of God and productive to the perpetrator 
of immediate entrance to heaven without the inter- 
vening purgatory if he should fail or perish in the 
attempt. At last a poor fanatic succeeded in win- 
ning the confidence of the prince and in a moment 
when no such danger was expected shot him 
through the heart, so that he died almost im- 
mediately. The country was plunged in univer- 
sal, paralyzing grief. For a while all hope of suc- 
cess in the struggle for independence seemed gone. 
Who would take up the work which none had done 
so well, so bravely, so disinterestedly, as he who lay 
dead ? But the States-General resolved to keep up 
the noble conflict, and the spirit of the murdered 
patriot survived in the hearts of the people. 


116 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


All eyes turned at first to the queen of England, 
the greatest of Protestant sovereigns, but for three 
years the provinces experienced little benefit and 
much vexation from the assistance which the re- 
public succeeded in obtaining from her for their 
sacred cause. She sent the earl of Leicester into the 
country as her representative ; but wdien, after much 
blundering, many disgraceful intrigues and repeat- 
ed failures on the field of battle, the queen was 
compelled to recall her incapable favorite, the Hol- 
landers were so rejoiced that medals were struck in 
memory of the happy release. 

It was not until after the English assistance — or, 
rather, interference with the affairs of the republic 
.of the United Netherlands — had been withdrawn 
that another scion of the house of Orange rose to 
prominence in the cause of Dutch freedom. This 
was Prince Maurice, the son of the illustrious Wil- 
liam the Silent. He soon displayed extraordinary 
abilities as a military commander, attaining an un- 
rivaled reputation throughout Europe for his skill 
in conducting sieges, the celerity of his marches and 
the genius wherewith he knew how to turn to ac- 
count the critical moments of the battlefield. 

The siege of Steenwyk was among the earliest 
of Prince Maurice’s famous achievements. It is to 
be remembered that the United Netherlands con- 
sisted of but seven provinces. The original seven- 
teen that in 1576 had entered into the compact 


AT THE SIEGE OF STEEN WYK. 


117 


called the “Pacification of Ghent had dwindled 
down to these few, situated in the North. The ten 
southern provinces, which had not given their ad- 
herence to the Reformed faith, had fallen away 
from their bold stand of resistance to Spanish op- 
pression, and had returned to obedience and sub- 
mission, followed by most ruinous consequences to 
their prosperity. But the Spaniards had not been 
completely driven from their footing in the North ; 
the province of Gronigen was held by the Spanish 
governor Yerdugo, and many a stronghold in these 
eastern portions of the republic was in the hand of 
Spain. Among these strongholds was the city of 
Steenwyk, in the north-west corner of the province 
of Overyssel, near the borders of the two provinces 
of Drenthe and Friesland. It was an important 
j)lace. It commanded the provinces named ; and 
if it could be secured by the republican forces, the 
province of Gronigen would eventually have to be 
vacated by the enemy. In the summer of 1591, 
Prince Maurice appeared before its walls, but an 
invasion of Gelderland by the Spaniards forced him 
to abandon the siege. A second time he invested 
the city, and now he persevered till its reduction 
was accomplished. On the 28th of May, 1592, 
the siege was recommenced, and it lasted thirty- 
seven days, the capitulation and surrender taking 
j)lace on the 3d and 4th of July respectively. 

Mention has already been made in a former chap- 


118 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


ter of an attempt on the part of the Spanish gov- 
ernor of Groningen, General Verdugo, to throw a 
reinforcement into the place during the progress of 
the siege, and that on this occasion was captured the 
child which Major Gapertz had adopted, and which 
had gone since that time by the name of Walbur- 
gius Steen wyk. We will need now to relate some- 
what more in detail the circumstances of that cap- 
ture, which were unknown to his benefactors. 

The body of troops which Verdugo sought to in- 
troduce into Steen wyk numbered about three hun- 
dred men, but they were accompanied by a train 
of wagons containing much-needed provisions and 
ammunition. A few of the officers were attended 
by their wives and families. It was thought that 
this body could easily enter the city, as its prepara- 
tion and movement had been kept a profound se- 
cret, and as the prince of Orange could not prevent 
its entrance if it came upon him by surprise. But 
intercepted letters told the prince the whole story 
and informed him of the small numbers of the 
relieving force. To Jacob of Marnix and Major 
Gapertz was entrusted the duty of heading off this 
force. Considering the smallness of the numbers 
on either side, one of the most sanguinary conflicts 
of the war ensued between these two detachments. 
Of the three hundred on the Spanish side, but six- 
ty or seventy men succeeded in entering the city, 
and the rest were killed or taken prisoners. The 


AT THE SIEGE OF STEEN WYK. 


119 


major was severely wounded, and Baron Jacob re- 
ceived the injury which had made him an invalid 
ever since.* 

Among the officers of the relieving body was a 
young Flemish gentleman who was accompanied 
by his wife and his child. In the battle just men- 
tioned he was seriously wounded, but was carried 
into the city by his comrades. In the confusion and 
terror of the conflict his wife had become separated 
from the nurse who had charge of the little boy. 
In such a moment search for any one was impos- 
sible. The young wife and mother was hurried 
along by those fleeing with her ; she found a place 
of refuge beyond the reach of the patriot troops. 

The nurse met with a different fate. She fondly 
pressed the child to her bosom, and after running 
wildly in the first direction that offered she found 
that she was left more and more to herself, until none 
of her companions in flight remained with her. At 
the same time she discovered not far from her the 
ruins of an old mill whose upper portions seemed 
to have been shot away by the artillery of besiegers 
and besieged, but whose solid stone walls nearer 
the ground seemed to offer a good refuge. Accord- 
ingly, she hastened her steps, hoping that no mis- 
sile might cut her off from this place of safety, and 
that she might thus preserve the life of her charge ; 

* What follows is worked up from a brief hint by the author 
in Chapter XIX. 


120 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


her wish was realized thus far, at least. She reached 
the ruins, but found that some one had been before 
her — a man in the uniform of a soldier, but 
not really such. One of those despicable charac- 
ters who take advantage of the misfortunes of 
war to make more wretched those already sufficient- 
ly overcome by its calamities ; a villain who would 
rob the slain and would not hesitate to despatch 
the wounded to secure plunder, — such a man was 
hiding among the ruins. Pie had watched the ap- 
proach of the woman with the child ; he at once saw 
that the child belonged to parents of a rank in life 
superior to that of the woman, and surmised that 
there must be valuables about the dainty garments 
of the boy. As soon as the woman had come with- 
in the shelter of the stone walls he rudely accosted 
her and demanded the child from her ; she refused 
to surrender it. Without the least compunction the 
wretch struck her with the weapon he carried, and 
— whether intentionally or not — with such force 
that she dropped dead to the ground. 

It might place the murderer in an awkward posi- 
tion if this murder were traced to him, for this was 
not the actual field of battle ; accordingly, he has- 
tily dug a hole in the loose, sandy ground and 
hid the body. Scarcely had he done this when he 
heard the approach of a body of men ; he fled from 
the ruins, and soon a number of soldiers of the re- 
lieving party entered the walls. They had dis- 


AT THE SIEGE OF STEEN WYK. 


121 


covered the mill and deemed it would afford them 
opportunity for turning at bay against their pursu- 
ing enemies ; but after a gallant resistance, finding 
their ammunition lessening and being cut off from 
all supplies, they surrendered and were taken pris- 
oners, the child with them. None of the soldiers 
knew of the child’s origin or how it came there. 
They were Spanish troops, and, as the women and 
the children had followed in the rear of the sol- 
diers, they knew nothing of the Flemish officer’s 
wife or child. Thus it was that Major Gapertz 
could discover no trace of the child’s parentage 
and resolved to make it his ward. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE MYSTERIOUS REMINDER ONCE MORE. 

T he next morning found the household at St. 

Aldegonde’s country-seat much relieved from 
the anxiety occasioned by Baron Jacob’s serious 
illness of the previous day. The patient passed a 
restful night, with no return of the coughing. 

Very early in the morning Walter Harmsen set 
out to visit certain families that needed his personal 
and private ministrations either by reason of sick- 
ness or from other causes, and now felt that he had 
at the Wyngaerden House an errand which would 
give him a good opportunity to fulfill the wishes of 
the sick man in the sandhills. Leaving the house, 
he leisurely walked down the long lane between the 
beeches, accompanied by Walburg, to whom he 
related some of the contents of Lady Jacoba’s 
letter, to the girl’s no little delight. Arrived at 
the road, Walter turned to the left, and after walk- 
ing some distance entered a side-path leading into a 
piece of woods skirting the road. This before long 
brought him to a small dwelling occupied by one 
of the peasants who farmed some lands belonging 
122 


THE MYSTERIOUS REMINDER. 


123 


to a nobleman of the vicinity ; the peasant’s wife 
had been seriously ill for several weeks. When 
Walter reached the yard, no one was in sight ; for 
the peasant had gone to town and his hired-men 
were in the field. Walter, however, had been here 
more than once, and knew the way ; therefore, 
opening the door, he was soon in the room where 
lay the sufferer. There was very little light in the 
apartment; part of the small windows were still 
covered by the blinds, and one window was in the 
wall which separated the house from the barn. 
After waiting to observe whether or not the patient 
was aware of his presence, Walter ventured to say 
as softly as possible, so as not to wake her if 
she were asleep. 

How are you feeling to-day. Dame Allers ?” 

There was a movement in the bed ; the woman 
raised herself into a sitting posture, and, drawing 
one of the curtains, she said with feeble voice. 

Is that you, Mr. Harmsen ? I am very happy 
to see you. The gracious Lord has surely sent 
you to me.” 

‘^How are you now, dear friend?” repeated 
Walter. 

have all night been unable to sleep,” she 
answered, but I have had great comfort from the 
thoughts that came to me. I was led to reflect upon 
the words you spoke to me during your last visit. 
Ever more fully from day to day I know what it 


124 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


means that Jesus came not to call the righteous, 
but sinners, to repentance.” 

I am very glad to hear it, Dame Alters,” said 
Walter. We must come to Christ as we are — a 
broken and contrite heart he will not despise — but 
we must come believing, and not doubting.” 

No, indeed, not doubting. As long as I 
doubted, I was in trouble; but when the Lord 
gave me faith, all fear was taken away.” 

^^Are you now perfectly at rest and happy?” 
inquired Walter, laying a slight stress on the word 
“ perfectly.” • 

^^As regards my soul, I can say, ^ Yes,’ ” answered 
the woman. My body, indeed, is in pain — for I 
suffered from an exhausting cough — but ere long 
the Lord will dissolve this earthly tabernacle to 
give me a dwelling-place with Jesus. I trust, 
however, that the Lord will spare me long enough 
to let me realize the dearest wish which I have upon 
earth.” 

What is this wish ?” 

That I may see my eldest son converted,” 
answered the woman. “ Duik is such a reckless 
fellow ! He causes us, especially my excellent 
and pious husband, very great grief. He goes 
about with all sorts of bad men and lives without 
a thought of God or his commandments. What 
must become of him if he continues to go on in 
the way he is noW doing?” 


THE MYSTERIOUS REMINDER. 125 

Where is he at present?’^ asked Walter, full of 
sympathy with the unhappy mother. 

I do not know,’’ she sighed, a severe coughing- 
spell interrupting her speech. “ He wanders all 
over. Sometimes he is at home, and then, again, 
he will be absent more than a week. He has been 
in the army, where he learned very little that was 
good for him, and where he must have done much 
for which he was reprimanded ; but just what he 
did I do not know.” 

At this instant the window that looked into the 
barn was slightly raised, and a voice was heard 
saying in a hoarse whisper, 

“ Duik ! Duik Allers ! Are you here ?” 

As if overcome by a sudden fear, the sick woman 
seized the hand of Walter and said in undertones. 

This is one of those evil men with whom my 
son keeps company. Ah ! do not leave me now, 
Mr. Harmsen.” 

Walter felt a strange sensation of dread come 
over him when he heard this voice ; it at once re- 
minded him of the man who had spoken so roughly 
to him on the previous evening in the cabin, and 
who had given utterance to such shocking irrever- 
ence. 

Again the voice called, but now somewhat louder, 
and with the Flemish accent more pronounced : 

Duik ! Duik Allers ! Come along ! We are 
waiting for you at the corner of the Papen road.” 


126 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Walter now rose and went to the window to see 
who was the speaker. Scarce, however, had the 
fellow who was in the barn seen Walter when, 
bending down as if to hide his face, he ran away, 
muttering to himself, 

‘‘What is he doing here? Well, if he comes 
this evening, he will not feel much like laughing. 
We shall play him a trick which he will remember 
for some time.” 

When Walter had closed the little window, he 
noticed in the opposite corner of the room a woman 
who seemed to have awakened out of a deep sleep, 
and who was not a little astonished to find a man 
in the apartment. Walter supposed it was a ser- 
vant who had been watching with the sick woman, 
especially because she wore garments suited to such 
occupation. He was about to address her, when 
the invalid drew the curtains and asked feebly, 

“ Is that you, Aalt ?” 

“Yes, Dame Allers,” replied the person ad- 
dressed, coming to the side of the bed. “ I really 
believe I fell asleep, but I was so very tired after 
my walk to The Hague. Can I do anything for 
you now?” 

“ Be so kind as to open the window-blinds. My 
dear husband doubtless thought I was sleeping, 
and did not wish to disturb me by opening them.” 

The servant threw a quick glance at Walter, 
and went out. 


THE MYSTERIOUS REMINDER. 


127 


Who is that servant ?” asked Walter. “ I do 
not remember seeing her here yesterday morning.” 

am but little acquainted with her myself, 
Mr. Harmsen,” replied the other. ^‘Last night 
she arrived here very late and told us that she 
was the housemaid of the steward of Wyngaer- 
den House, and that he had cast her out of doors 
in a merciless way. My husband, who is kindness 
itself and knows how cruel and wicked the steward 
can be, at once offered her house-room. She gladly 
accepted, and insisted upon passing the night in my 
room that she might be of some service to me ; but 
she counted on having greater endurance than she 
really had.” 

Aalt had now opened all the blinds, and the 
bright sunlight streamed into the room. The sick 
woman was much cheered by the change. She now 
asked Walter if he would join her in a prayer for 
her son ; Harmsen gladly complied. He knelt 
by the side of the bed and prayed aloud to the 
Lord that he would be pleased to do after this 
woman’s strong desire and bring her son to re- 
pentance and conversion. 

While Walter was praying the little window 
opening into the barn was again softly raised with- 
out attracting Walter’s attention, and the face of 
Duik Allers appeared before it. He was not a little 
surprised to find a stranger kneeling at his mother’s 
bedside. He listened intently when he perceived 


128 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


that he was himself the subject of prayer, and his 
frequent changes of color indicated that the words 
made an impression upon him. Before Walter rose 
to his feet Duik had again closed the window and 
disappeared into a remote corner of the barn. He 
did not go to the Papen road. 

The servant had also entered the room. She 
remained at a respectful distance until the prayer 
was ended, and then approached the bedside and, 
addressing the sick woman, said, 

I am sincerely thankful that you have permit- 
ted me to remain this night with you. I shall now 
leave you, for I dare not longer impose upon your 
goodness.’^ 

You owe me no thanks, Aalt,’’ said the woman ; 

I am glad to have afforded you shelter, for my 
house is ever open to those who are in trouble. 
What do you intend to do?’’ 

I am going to Leyden ; and if I do not gain 
my object there, I shall return to you. Will you 
let me do this?” 

Certainly,” replied Dame Allers. But let 
me give you some good advice : look up on high 
for guidance iu your ways, that they may be ways 
of uprightness.” 

The housemaid appeared to be somewhat sur- 
prised at these words, as if she were not accus- 
tomed to get such advice. 

May I know what you desire to do at Ley- 


THE MYSTERIOUS REMINDER. 


129 


den?’^ asked Walter, who wanted to enter into con- 
versation with her. Perhaps I can be of service 
to you, for I reside in Leyden.” 

I cannot tell any one,” replied the girl, rather 
curtly. 

Not even the Lord ?” asked the sick woman. 

^ The Lord ’ ? ‘ The Lord ’ ?” rejoined the 

housemaid. What Lord ?” 

Walter regarded the servant in surprise. Was 
it real ignorance which made her speak so, or was 
the ignorance only affected ? He could not obtain 
a satisfactory answer to this question by a study of 
her countenance, for her eye was cold and expres- 
sionless and her aspect had little that was pleasing. 
Tlie sick woman looked at Walter as if she meant 
to invite him to instruct the poor girl by a suitable 
answer to her question. 

Did you not say that you were intending to go 
to Leyden ?” continued Walter. “ If this is so, I 
will accompany you for a little distance, and then I 
shall take the opportunity to reply to your ques- 
tion. Do you approve of this?” 

The servant regarded Walter with a look of sus- 
picion ; but when she noted the frank and friendly 
expression of the evangelist’s eye, her mistrust 
seemed to melt away, and she agreed to his pro- 
posal. She took leave of Dame Allers, and placed 
under her arm a small bundle carefully wrapped up 
in a handkerchief, 
y 


130 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


While Walter Harmsen and Aalt walked along 
the highway the former sought to make clear to her 
the being of God, his claims upon her love and her 
duty to him. He could not ascertain what impres- 
sion his words were making, for Aalt made no re- 
ply, although listening with no lack of attention. 
As Walter wished to get some further information 
regarding the steward of Wyngaerden House, he at 
length changed the subject and asked her in regard 
to her service at the mansion. She informed him 
that she had come to these parts by reason of pecu- 
liar circumstances, but that she could explain these 
to no one. 

Could not the steward be induced to take you 
into his service again?’’ asked Walter. 

Certainly not, for he is a miser and thinks this 
is a fine excuse to withhold from me the wages that 
he owes me. But I will not forgive the debt, and 
before this month is out I will make him pay me.” 

But if you cannot gain access to him, how will 
you get your money ?” 

I can get into the mansion in spite of him,” 
replied the housemaid, decisively. — “And I must 
get inside,” she half muttered to herself, “for 
there lies just the treasure that for a year I have 
been hunting for.” 

“ Perhaps I can speak a good word for you to 
the steward?” suggested Walter. “I intend soon 
to pay him a visit.” 


THE MYSTERIOUS REMINDER. 131 

“ I thank you/’ replied the woman, “ but you 
would give . yourself trouble for nothing. When 
do you expect to see the steward?” 

This very morning,” replied Walter. Can- 
not I really do anything for you before you resort 
to methods which I fear will be wrong ?” 

The girl reflected a moment, and then said. 
Perhaps.” 

^^And how?” asked Walter. 

Try, in the course of conversation, to mention 
just three words.” 

What are they ?” 

“ ^ St. Luke’s day,’ ” said the housemaid. 

Walter was slightly startled. This was the 
second time he had been requested to employ 
this reminder. Was there collusion between this 
woman and the sufierer in the cabin ? Then what 
occurrence could it have been that took place on that 
day, the recollection of which was relied on to 
produce so potent an influence upon the steward ? 

These thoughts were passing through Walter’s 
mind and he was on the point of asking the house- 
maid for an explanation, when she said. 

See ! yonder is the road to Wyngaerden House. 
I shall keep on my way to Leyden. Good-day !” 
and without further words she left the evangelist 
to his reflections. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

BEARDING THE STEWARD IN HIS DEN. 

S Walter proceeded along the road that would 



conduct him to Wyngaerden House he re- 
mained plunged in deep thought. It seemed a 
rather peculiar course into which he had been 
drawn by circumstances. More than once he was 
on the point of turning back, for he did not great- 
ly like the idea of making the acquaintance of this 
man who had been represented to him as cruel and 
niggardly in his dealings with his dependants ; but 
when, on the other hand, he reminded himself of 
the request of the man whose soul was oppressed 
by some great secret, and when he recalled tlie 
promise he had made Joris, he put from him every 
obstacle which his own reluctance tlirew in the way. 

Who knows,’^ he consoled himself, but that 
the Lord is letting all these things work together 
in this manner to make me the instrument in his 
hands for bringing this old steward to better 
thoughts? Thus, even though I may not succeed 
to-day, perhaps the Lord will permit me to lay 
foundations to be built upou later, when I shall 


132 


BEARDING THE STEWARD IN HIS DEN 133 

visit the mansion more frequently during Lady 
Jacoba’s stay. The Lord grant this ! How I 
would rejoice ! Therefore, though this undertak- 
ing is not much to my liking, I will nevertheless 
persevere in it and crucify the flesh.^^ 

The sun was now not far from the meridian and 
lit up the tops of the trees, which threw their long 
shadows athwart the meadows that bordered the 
woody path. It was unusually warm, so that 
Walter was compelled to loosen his cloak. He 
was soon upon the Papen road, and not long 
after beheld the ancient Wyngaerden House with its 
dilapidated walls. It stood in the midst of a small 
park of lofty oak trees and was surrounded by a 
narrow moat, which, however, contained no water. 

When Walter approached the little bridge that 
gave access to the house, he found chopping wood 
an old man who had taken up such a position that 
no one could get to the mansion without his per- 
mission. When Walter came nearer, the man laid 
down his axe and asked him what he wished. 

Is the steward at home?’^ asked Walter. 

The man looked at Walter in utter surprise, as 
if it seemed altogether incredible to him that any 
one could ask such a question. 

^ At home ’ ? ^At home ’ he replied, deris- 
ively. ^^As long as I can remember, the steward 
has never left his nest. He’s a bird that’s always 
hatching.” 


134 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


1 trust, then, that something good will -come of 
it,” said Walter, wishing to enter into the humor of 
his odd interlocutor. 

“ ^ Something good M ^ Something good cried 
the man. You can’t hatch storks from owls’ eggs, 
nor doves from magpies’.” 

“ What must I understand by that ?” inquired 
Walter, wishing to draw him out. 

^ Understand ’ ? ‘ Understand ’ ?” said the man, 
who seemed to be in the habit of repeating a por- 
tion of the words addressed to him. Owls love 
old buildings and magpies have long claws.” 

You’ll have to explain yourself a little better, 
my friend,” continued Walter, much amused. 
^‘How can you expect me to comprehend your 
proverbs ?” 

‘ Explain ’ ? ‘ Explain ’ ?” answered the man, 

who at every reply looked his questioner all over 
from top to toe, as if he were a strange animal. 

Certainly. You asked me if the steward was at 
home. He is always at home ; and if you wish to 
see him, be careful not to get too near him. And 
don’t trouble him about money-matters, for he is in 
a quarrelsome mood, as he usually is about this time 
every October.” 

This information was not greatly calculated to 
give Walter encouragement, but, having come thus 
far, he determined, with God’s help, to continue. 

Where is the steward just now?” he inquired. 


BEARDING THE STEWARD IN HIS DEN. 135 

^ Just now ’ ? 'Just now ^ ?” repeated the wood- 
chopper. " Look here !’’ he continued, lifting up 
the heavy axe and pointing with it to the house. 
" Do you see that knocker upon the oaken door ? 
Knock three times as loud as you can ; then some 
one will open the door and let you in.” 

Walter thanked his informant and proceeded to 
the door. Having knocked three times, according 
to directions, the door was opened after a short 
interval by a man-servant, wlio after asking some 
questions conducted Walter to a hall and told him 
to knock at a door at the other end, where he would 
very likely find the steward. With a beating heart 
Harmsen went along the hall, and soon stood op- 
posite the door ; sending a quick silent prayer up 
to God, he knocked and waited the issue. 

When Walter entered at a gruff summons from 
within, he perceived some one standing before an 
open chest ; but when, partially turning himself, 
the latter person saw that it was a stranger who 
entered, he threw an angry glance at Walter, and, 
growling out some unintelligible words, grasped 
some bags that were lying on the floor and tossed 
them hastily into the chest. It was the steward. 
When, however, he had risen from the floor and 
had turned fully round upon his visitor, he dis- 
covered that the person before him evidently was, 
to judge from his dress, one of the evangelists of 
the neighborhood. He now assumed a much more 


136 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


affable demeanor. Nevertheless, he closed and 
locked his chest, after which he offered Walter a 
chair. 

Walter Harmsen was quite at a loss how to be- 
gin the conversation, being in the presence of a 
man whom he had never met before, and whom he 
Avished to see upon no very agreeable errand. Mind- 
ful, however, of the apostolic admonition to be 
friendly, to bear with evil men and to speak Avith 
all gentleness, meekness and prudence, he smilingly 
pointed to the money-chest and said. 

It seems that the Lord has prospered you much, 
seeing you can afford to keep a chest full of 
money.’’ 

They are but a few pennies, worthy sir,” re- 
plied the steward, “which with great industry I 
have managed to save in the service of the lord of 
Sandhurst during these last fifty years. However, 
I Avill not be able to add many more to them; I am 
groAving old and cannot visit the markets in person. 
And there is but little chance to make any profits, 
for people are getting more and more avaricious.” 

“That is indeed sad,” observed Walter, “for, 
since the love of money is a root of all evil, the 
fruits of such prevalent avarice can be anything 
but agreeable in God’s sight. I trust that you 
yourself have not so set your heart on money as 
to make an idol of it?” 

The steward was standing by the chest while 


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BEARDING THE STEWARD IN HIS DEN. 137 

Walter spoke these words, and, whether he doubted 
if it were securely locked or because he had some 
other end in view, he began to make such a rattling 
noise with the huge key in the grating lock that 
Walter could scarcely hear the latter part of his 
own sentence. Accordingly, he ceased speaking, 
comprehending that the old man could hardly have 
an excuse to keep it up the entire hour and quietly 
waiting for him to stop. The steward soon per- 
ceived that the stranger was not to be put off in 
this way ; he had thus frightened away many 
another unwelcome visitor. Seeing that the dis- 
turbance made no impression upon the imperturb- 
able patience of the person with whom he now had 
to deal, he turned and said with considerable 
asperity, 

I do not understand what I have to do with 
such questions as that. Who ever puts these to a 
man like me, upon the brink of the grave? I 
thought you came to see me about buying or sell- 
ing, or about some one who wished to hire apart- 
ments at Wyngaerden House. That would suit me 
much better, for there is hardly anything to be 
earned in any other way, and I surely ought to 
provide for my old age.’’ 

Walter perceived that the steward was not eas- 
ily to be brought to converse upon matters of 
his soul’s welfare. In the hope of keeping him to 
that subject as nearly as possible without needlessly 


138 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


exasperating him, he allowed the old man to divert 
him for a moment from his original question, and 
fell in with the request to talk on business. 

^^To provide for old age, my friend, is com- 
mendable. I must confess, however, that I did not 
come to transact any commercial business with you, 
nor do I need any apartments for myself — ’’ 

As Walter hesitated a moment at this point, 
wondering how he would introduce the subject of 
Jacoba’s coming, the steward looked at him askance 
with an expression that said plainly as words, 
‘^Why, then, disturb me in my most delightful 
occupation 

Nevertheless,’^ continued Walter, I believe I 
will have to make a bargain with you as regards 
the greater portion of the mansion. But it is in 
behalf of another, of one — ” 

The steward feared that the visitor might here 
be getting back to that question about God, es- 
pecially as Walter hesitated again ; he according- 
ly quickly interrupted him and asked in mollified 
tones, 

^^In behalf of othei’s, did you say? Which 
others? Are they rich? Have they many ser- 
vants? Do they bring their own horses along? 
How much would they be willing to give ? Cer- 
tainly more than ten florins per month a person ? 
From which country do they come? Are they 
French, Italians, Spaniards or — ” 


BEARDING THE STEWARD IN HIS DEN 139 


The steward’s breath failed or else his list of 
geographical names came to an end; at any rate, 
he ceased questioning, although with evident re- 
luctance. The evangelist could not but smile 
while listening to this torrent of inquiries pour- 
ing from the old man’s mouth although his pur- 
pose was painfully evident. 

I must tell you, Mr. Steward,” replied Walter, 
that I cannot undertake to answer all these ques- 
tions, but, seeing you are a man of some years 
and of experience in business, I suppose you can 
patiently wait till you see the party to obtain in- 
formation in regard to some of the points. I can 
only ask you to reserve for two ladies and their 
attendants all the portion you are accustomed to 
rent; no doubt you can make satisfactory terms 
with them when they come.” 

I am sorry you cannot tell me just how many 
servants there will be. Besides, I have heard of 
one French lady coming — inquiries were made to 
that etfect — and I may have to let her have the 
rooms.” 

I think the lady you mean is the same as one 
of these two — ” 

Oh, indeed ! and they are your friends ! Will 
you do me the favor, then, to tell them they can get 
no place so cheap, so quiet, so comfortable, so beau- 
tiful, so agreeable, so — I don’t know what more — 
as this house? Will you tell them so?” 


140 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


When I meet these persons/’ replied Walter, I 
will gladly do so. But now allow me also to ask 
you a favor — to give me an answer to a question 
which is of great importance to yourself, and which 
I have obliged myself to put to you. Will you — ” 

Is there anything to be made by it ?” quickly 
interrupted the steward, suspecting a return to the 
first subject broached between them. I am satis- 
fied if I secure but a small profit in all my transac- 
tions. I sell my wood about half as cheap as the 
steward of Raaphorst, and you can get all sorts 
of articles from me. There is nothing that you 
can desire but I have it on hand — gunpowder, fire- 
arms, swords, clothes, furniture, writing-materials, 
books — I can’t enumemte them all — everything 
by which I can turn an honest penny.” 

I repeat what I have more than once told you, 
Mr. Steward,” said Walter, with an emphasis that 
could not be mistaken and a seriousness that for- 
bade further trifling — that I am not come either 
to buy or to sell ; and, now that I have spoken for 
the apartments in behalf of my friends, I have no 
more business matters on hand. But I must put a 
question to you.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE OMINOUS WORDS. 

M ore and more clearly the steward began to see 
that the person he had at present to deal with 
was a man of immovable perseverance, but before he 
would quite surrender himself he meant to make one 
more effort to escape his uncomfortable question- 
ings. He knew it would not be wise policy to ex- 
ercise his usual harshness toward the stranger, who 
evidently had been the means of procuring him 
profitable tenants. Accordingly, he replied to 
Walter Harmsen^s last and emphatic assertion : 

Pardon me, but I am an old man and not at 
all capable of answering questions put to me by 
such learned gentlemen as belong to your profes- 
sion. I am but a poor insignificant steward who is 
trying to get through this world the best he may. 
Be so kind as to ask me nothing except what relates 
to buying and selling, and do not ask concerning 
too difficult matters even here, for my mind is 
becoming so weak that sometimes I hardly know 
whether twice two is four or five. Tell me, there- 
fore, first of all, whether your question will have 

141 


142 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


reference to business, for of other things I know 
nothing/^ 

That is indeed sad, both for you and for me,” 
said Walter, ‘^and I — ” 

Sad for you ?” interrupted the steward, quickly, 
conceiving a slight hope that, after all, he might 
have a business-transaction in mind. ^^How so? 
I should think it was all the better for you ; if you 
wish to do business, it had better be done with one 
who thoroughly understands it and gives his whole 
mind to it. What, then, is it you wish ? Shall we 
go up stairs or down to the cellar ? Propose which- 
ever storeroom you please. My goods are distrib- 
uted all over.” 

In spite of himself, Walter smiled at the cun- 
ning of the old man in his endeavors to avoid a 
return to the first question. Nevertheless, he was 
more than ever filled with an earnest determina- 
tion to reach this hardened conscience, and from his 
soul deplored the ruinous love of money that kept 
this gray-headed man fast in the toils of Satan. 

am greatly obliged,” Walter resumed, ^‘but 
in your house there really is nothing which I desire 
to purchase. I can truly say with the apostle that 
I desire not yours, but you. But permit me to ask 
you two questions.” 

^ Two questions ’ !” thought the steward. This 
man is wonderfully persistent. First he spoke of 
one question, and now of two. I think I will have 


THE OMINOUS WORDS. 


143 


to give in to him^ or else he will be coming with 
three or more/^ Then, speaking audibly, he said 
dryly, 

‘‘Well, what are the questions that you wish to 
ask me 

Walter sent up another swift and silent prayer, 
and replied, 

“A moment ago you remarked that you were an 
aged man on the brink of the grave. One who is 
compelled habitually to walk upon the edge of an 
abyss is in danger of falling into it. What would 
be the consequence if you should fall into this abyss 
— this grave 

“I have no time to think of such things,^^ an- 
swered the steward, walking to the window and 
beginning to beat a march upon the panes. 

“ So much the worse for you,^^ said Walter, “ for 
then death may surprise you while you are least 
prepared for that grave. I should be very much 
mistaken, no doubt, were I to hint that your papers 
and receipts were not all in order to be rendered an 
account of at any moment to the lord of Sandhorst, 
but you may have forgotten that there is still a very 
old account standing between you and — ” 

“‘An old account^?” interrupted the steward. 
“ I know of no old account. There is not a soul 
to whom I owe a penny. On the contrary, because 
the world is full of cheats and misers, there are a 
multitude of people who owe me, and for whose 


144 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


payments I have long waited in vain. In the first 
place, there is Farmer Seving, who — ” 

“ Permit me to remark,’’ said Walter, that there 
are, nevertheless, a few persons who have against 
you a claim for payment. For instance, there is 
little Joris Puikmans — ” 

What !” exclaimed the steward, turning abrupt- 
ly. Does that self-important little fellow imagine 
that I owe him anything ? Have I not been the 
means of his earning his bread and butter? Was 
not his wife enabled by my intervention to purchase 
the greater part of the wares in her shop at half 
price ? Did I not save his life ? Nay, the ingrati- 
tude of that little rascal is beyond endurance. If 
he dares to come near me, I shall give him a chance 
to spend some of his time growling in the stone 
cell. You may tell him that; that will be sure to 
take away all his taste for money that he has not 
earned.” 

But he insists that you owe him the money,” 
said Walter. 

I insist that I do not, and that he will not get 
any,” said the steward, drumming upon the window- 
panes with as much violence and noise as he could. 

“ But surely it is a mere bagatelle to you ?” said 
Walter. 

“ ‘ A bagatelle ’ ! He demanded more than two 
florins. I could buy half an acre of land with 
that and have something over. ‘ Two florins ’ ! 


THE OMINOUS WORDS, 


145 


How did he get it into his brain ? I tell you what, 
first and last : he shall not have a cent.” 

'‘Then the old account must remain unclosed, 
unsettled?” asked Walter, impressively. 

" ' Old account ^ !” cried the steward, turning to 
Walter red in the face with anger; "I have no old 
account with Joris.” 

" I did not say that you had an account of long 
standing with Joris , said Walter, gently. 

" With whom, then ?” asked the steward, in a 
towering passion. 

" With Him of whom we are told that we must 
all appear before his judgment-seat to render an 
account for the deeds done in the body.” 

" Ho, ho !” exclaimed the steward. " It has not 
got so far as that yet. After my death those things 
will all be made right; there^s time enough yet. 
Besides, I often read the psalms of Dathenus. I am 
not so bad, therefore, as many other people, who 
never look into a good book and have much more 
reason to fear that things will not go right with 
them. It is quite different in my case. I — ” 

"But you do not expect that Dathenus will 
settle that old account?” asked Walter. "Think 
you the Lord God will be satisfied if you hold 
up before him the psalms of Dathenus?” 

" Look here !” said the steward, greatly vexed. 
"I will have nothing to do with all those old 
accounts you speak of. I have so much to attend 
10 


146 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


to here at Wyngaerden House that I can take no 
time to give my thoughts to these matters. Is 
there anything else you want with me?’^ 

should like to remind you that a certain 
housemaid by the name of Aalt — ’’ 

It seems that you have taken it upon yourself 
to mind my affairs,” said the steward. What is 
that housemaid to you ? Her effects are here ; and 
if she wants them, I will cause them to be placed 
on the bridge, where she can get them herself.” 

She spoke, however, of some wages that were 
due to her from you.” 

The steward could not endure it at the window- 
panes any longer. He came and confronted Wal- 
ter, and said with malice depicted in every feature. 
Again you demand money ! Perhaps by and 
by you will be wanting some for yourself? I am 
well quit of that woman ; let her go back to her 
own parts. Besides, I cannot spare you any more 
time : it is near twelve o’clock, and that is my 
dinner-hour.” 

Walter heaved a deep sigh. No matter what he 
said, whether in gentleness or in a way to search 
his conscience, nothing seemed capable of moving 
the obdurate heart of the steward. He could not, 
however, bring himself to leave until he had com- 
plied with the request of the sick man in the sand- 
hills. 

Pardon me, Mr. Steward,” he resumed, “ but I 


THE OMINOUS WORDS. 147 

must make one more request. Last night I was 
among the sandhills and stood by the sick-bed of 
a man who was in great trouble.^’ 

How can that concern me said the steward. 

That is none of my business. I tell you again 
that I can spare no more time.^^ 

But that man seemed to be in trouble on your 
account.” 

''On my account?” inquired the steward, de- 
risively. " I suppose the fellow was in money- 
straits and thought I ought to help him out. I 
am only too well acquainted with that sort of 
trouble.” 

"No ; he did not seem to be in want of money,” 
said Walter. "A secret appeared to oppress him, 
and he besought me to request you to come to him 
to-day or to-morrow.” 

"A secret ? and wanting me to go to him ?” ex- 
claimed the steward, walking up and down the 
apartment. "That is very likely one of those 
secrets which I am to resolve by aid of my purse. 
Believe me, you have been made the tool of design- 
ing people who have determined to get money out 
of me. As to leaving this house, the prince and 
the States-General combined cannot move me to 
leave the mansion. If I should leave it but for 
an hour, those highwaymen would swoop down 
upon it to rob me. There is no power on earth 
that can compel me to go to the sandhills. A fine 


148 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


thing, to ask me to crawl into a miserable hut ! 
Evidently, a snare prepared by robbers. No; I 
will not listen to it. I do not propose that any 
one shall entice me away from home.” 

‘‘Not even God?” asked Walter, with quiet but 
searching earnestness. 

“‘GodM ‘GodM You always come back to 
‘ God.’ Why bother my head about such thoughts? 
It will be time enough when I am sick. Leave me 
alone ; I have no time for more conversation. The 
days are getting short, for it is almost — ” 

“St. Luke’s day,” said Walter. 

“St. Luke’s — St. Luke’s day !” exclaimed the 
steward ; and he started back a few strides, as if a 
serpent had suddenly risen up before him. 

“ I was requested to remind you of St. Luke’s 
day,” added Walter. 

The steward, who had hitherto given free vent 
to his vexation, and whose face had been flushed 
with anger, now seemed overcome by a sudden con- 
sternation and turned deathly pale. He had diffi- 
culty in retaining his footing and staggered like 
a child learning to walk. His eyes, looking out 
from their sockets, stared at Walter in unspeakable 
terror, as if he beheld a ghost arising in his stead. 
He was forced to support himself by grasping the 
table with both hands; and if Walter had not has- 
tened to his side, he certainly would have fallen. 

“ St. Luke’s day !” stammered the steward. 


THE OMINOUS WORDS. 


149 


^^Yes/’ said Walter, observing that the man^s 
conscience had at last been aroused; ^‘the sick 
man in the sandhills mentioned that day, and re- 
quested me to bring it to your mind. He thought 
that if he sent you this word you would certainly 
go to him.” 

The steward covered his eyes with both hands, as 
if he foresaw some threatening danger. 

'' What shall I tell the man ?” asked Walter. 

The steward looked at Walter like one who has 
lost his senses. He seized the arms of the chair to 
which Walter had helped him, clutching them ner- 
vously, and, leaning forward, stared at him in still 
greater terror than before. 

Tell him?” he said, in broken sentences. ^^Tell 
him nothing. But no ; tell him only — Tell him 
that I will give him as much money — Ho ! no 
money ! I am a poor man ; the ravens come and 
steal it all away. Ha ! what is this here ?” he con- 
tinued, laying his hand on his heart. Something 
hurts me here. Ho, tell him nothing ; I shall be 
sure to come. Where is that cabin ?” 

^^Back of the high sandhill in the rear of Lede- 
ganck^s house at Wassenaar,” answered Walter. 

At this moment there was a knock at the door 
of the room, and one of the laborers entered the 
apartment with the announcement that a gentle- 
man on horseback had come to the house, inquiring 
if Mr. Walter Harmsen were within. 


150 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Who can that be ?” thought Walter ; and, going 
to the window, he perceived that the gentleman on 
horseback was none other than Major Gapertz. He 
at once feared that something had occurred at the 
house of Lord St. Aldegonde. 

‘‘Tell that gentleman,” he said to the laborer, 
“that I will be with him directly.” 

Walter now turned to the steward, who sat, 
the very picture of despair, gazing, paralyzed with 
fright, into a future that was fraught with terrible 
forebodings. Harmsen felt that a word of cheer was 
here eminently in place, and, bending down close 
to his ear, he spoke in friendly tones : 

“ With God are the issues of life and death. If 
you turn to him as a repentant sinner, he will for 
Jesus’ sake take away all your sins and your op- 
pressing anxiety and fear. God loves even the chief 
of sinners. The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth 
from all sin.” 

But the steward gave no sign that he understood, 
or even heard, Walter’s words. He remained 
seated, as if still bereft of the use of his powers, 
and seemed crushed to the earth by some awful 
’ weight. It appeared to Walter that he could do 
nothing more for him, and that the steward need- 
ed time for reflection. After uttering a few more 
words of encouragement he withdrew from the 
room and the house, leaving the steward alone 
with his conscience. 


THE OMINOUS WORDS. 


151 


I am glad that I found you here,” said Major 
Gapertz when Walter reached him. 

Why did you come after me ?” asked the latter, 
rejoicing in the contrast of the fresh air and the 
hearty greeting of his friend with the depressing 
experiences of the room above. Has Baron 
Jacob become worse?” 

^^No; he is much better,” replied the major. 
‘^The doctor this morning pronounced him out 
of all danger. But I was glad to get into the 
air after the anxiety of the night before, and, as 
I surmised you might be here, I thought I would 
ride as far as this and have your company 
back.” 

Thus speaking, the major turned his horse^s 
head, and Walter walked along by his side. The 
latter gave his friend an account of his interview 
with the steward, but carefully avoided mentioning 
the talismanic words and relating their effect upon 
the old man. Ere long the two men reached the 
house of their distinguished host. 


CHAPTER XV. 

AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 

HE position of the sun indicated that it was 



J- about the middle of the afternoon when Wal- 
ter Harnisen and the major were approaching the 
lane leading from the highway between The Hague 
and Leyden to the village of Wassenaar. The 
major was on horseback, and intended visiting 
certain friends residing on the road to The Hague 
before returning to his home in the latter city. 
The two friends here separated, Walter entering 
the lane. It was his intention to pay his friend 
Ledeganck a short visit, and after that to direct 
his steps to the sandhills, in the hope of finding 
the sick man alone in the cabin, and wishing, if pos- 
sible, to bring to him a word of comfort amid the 
trouble that evidently oppressed his heart. While 
the evangelist is visiting at the house of the wagon- 
maker we will precede him to the sandhills and see 
what is happening there that may be worthy of our 
attention. 

About the time that Walter entered Ledeganck’s 
house a man might have been seen leaving the 


152 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 


153 


Horster lane, which led from the village of Voor- 
schoten to the so-called E-apers sandhill, losing 
itself in the sand at the latter point. The man 
in question was far from being steady in his gait. 
From time to time he stood still and looked around 
him like a person who had lost his way and was 
trying to locate himself or to ascertain the points 
of the compass. Otherwise, he kept his eyes fixed 
upon the ground, gazing intently downward and 
casting furtive glances to every side. Occasion- 
ally he would clasp his stick with both hands in a 
nervous, desperate way; then he would stagger on, 
soon to stop again, however, until, reaching the 
foot of one of the yellow sandhills, he sank down 
altogether, as if utterly exliausted. 

St. Luke^s ! St. Luke’s ! I — ” he cried, in a 
tone loud enough to be called a scream. 

But suddenly the man would recollect himself 
and look around as if afraid that some one might 
have heard him. He bowed his head upon his 
breast and rested his forehead, dripping with cold 
sweat, upon the top of his stick. A solitary finch 
passed in rapid flight above him, chirping as it 
went ; at the sound of the rushing wings the man 
leaped from the ground with a sudden spring. He 
cast suspicious glances right and left and lifted the 
stick in a threatening manner, as if an enemy were 
about to assail him ; next he ran up the side of the 
hill, as if trying to escape pursuit, only to sink into 


154 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


the deep sand when scarce halfway up. Evidently, 
the person was being tormented by his conscience ; 
the agonies of remorse were apparent in his looks, 
in the heaving of his breast and in his half-open 
mouth. Having risen and proceeded to the top 
of the hill, he stood still again. At a distance 
he observed a miserable dwelling located in a 
hollow between two sandhills. 

^^Can that be the place he asked himself. 

Will he be alone ? What will he have to say to 
me ? Oh, I know ! Hush ! hush ! I hear it ! 
No, I will not listen to it. The dead are risen.” 

He ceased talking to himself and stared down 
into the sand, as if he sought for some opening 
wherein he might hide himself. 

^^Ha ! I know !” he said. ^‘1 know what to do ! 
I will fill his hands and his mouth with copper and 
silver. How much do I possess? How much 
have I saved through all the years I was stew- 
ard to the lord of Sandhorst? How much have 
I with me?” 

He pulled out a dingy leather purse, poured its 
contents upon his emaciated hand and began to 
count : 

^^One, two, three — six double stivers! That’s 
too much ; four will do. But that is for his hands, 
and there is his mouth ! Oh, that mouth ! If 
that mouth should speak ! Ah I and that mouth 
of the dead one I He is risen from the grave ; he 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 


155 


pursues me. Oh, what would Loth Huyghens 
Gael — Hold ! do not let me speak that name, 
for that man has as many ways of hearing as there 
are grains of sand at my feet. But what is that ?” 

He opened his mouth wide like one gasping for 
air, in a nervous clutch grasped his clothing at 
the breast and looked with a frightened glance in 
the direction whence he had come, and where he 
discovered four men coming toward him. 

On, on ! The dead is coming,’^ he screamed ; 
and like a hunted stag he ran up hill and down 
through the heavy sand, until he sank exhausted 
among some blackberry-bushes. 

Near the cabin at which the steward of Wyn- 
gaerden Plouse had been gazing from afar were 
seated two men ; they were looking intently in the 
direction of the village of Wassenaar. 

“ Do you think he will come, Geert said one 
of them, whose Flemish accent announces him to 
us at once as Geert Herman’s companion in crime, 
Fran5ois Bardes. 

have no doubt of it,” answered Herman. 

From the time that he turned into the Wassena- 
ar lane I have not lost sight of him a moment. He 
is now at the wagonmaker Ledeganck’s, and it 
would not at all surprise me to see him coming 
this way along yonder dunes pretty soon. Have 
you heard from Duik Allers?” 

No, not a word,” replied the Fleming. This 


156 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


morning I was at his house, but I did not see him ; 
perhaps he was sleeping, as usual. We cannot do 
anything with him ; that fellow seems to be listen- 
ing to his mother more than to us. As if he could 
make anything by pious talk W 

^^What can Duik be doing now?” said Geert 
Herman. He has seen Aalt, who told him she 
had been in The Hague and had met her and she is 
expected to come to this neighborhood.” He laid a 
peculiar and significant stress on the words her ” 
and ^^she.” 

“ Yes, she is in The Hague and with a lady of 
this preacher’s acquaintance,” said Fran9ois Bardes. 

I wonder what will be the consequence, and who 
will be the first to reach their object — we or sAc?” 

‘^Yes, I am curious to know that too,” said 
Geert ; but it will soon be decided. How long 
did this Harmsen stay at Dame Allers’s?” 

Not very long. Shortly after I caught sight 
of him through the window I saw him leave the 
house with Aalt ; she went toward Leyden, and he 
toward Wyngaerden House. As it was of more 
importance to watch the woman, I followed her 
until she was near the office of Sheriff Loth Huy- 
ghens Gael. I would like to know what was her 
business there.” 

I have been thinking that over myself,” said 
the cloth-weaver, although he was quite certain 
what her business had been. I think, however. 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 


157 


she was merely hoping to secure the aid of the 
sheriff in getting the wages that the steward owes 
her. But I doubt whether Mr. Gael, with all his 
constables, will be able to get a penny out of that 
old miser.^^ 

^^Well, what they cannot do we will try our 
hand at,^^ remarked the Fleming, with a laugh. 

The more he keeps in his chest, the better for us. 
I only hope we will be lucky enough to tempt the 
steward into this snare. But tell me : how was it 
possible for Aalt to take the ring and the girdle 
from you? Such a thing could never have hap- 
pened to me.’^ 

Aalt has not got either of them,^^ replied Geert 
Herman, a little angered by these words. How- 
ever, where these things flew to I declare I do not 
know. But what of them ? It was nothing but a 
plain silver ring — broad and thick, indeed, but not 
worth much money; and the girdle was worth 
nothing at all. I am even glad I got rid of them. 
You know I bought them about a year ago from 
Hugh. But why that girl was so set upon getting 
possession of them is a matter that I do not at all 
understand.’^ 

Fran9ois Bardes looked at the cloth-weaver in a 
way that plainly indicated that he gave no credence 
to what he had just heard, and Geert Herman dare 
not meet his companion’s eye, fully aware of his 
disbelief. Herman accordingly at once changed the 


158 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


subject, and brought the conversation back to the 
steward of Wyngaerden House. 

I hope,’’ said Bardes, that the old rat will 
run into the trap. But tell me, Geert : how in the 
world did you manage to induce the preacher to 
come to this place so near night-time?” 

^^Oh, that was not so very difficult,” replied the 
cloth- weaver. After we had consulted together, 
as you know, and had forced from Hugh the prom- 
ise that he would tell the preacher no more than 
was agreed upon, I undertook to fetch him. Well, 
I was a little uncertain myself at first how to get 
at him, but on the way to the village I thought of 
something that might do. I put on the disguise of 
an old man, in which you saw me afterward while 
Harmsen was here. You know that these pious folks 
— and in these parts even more than elsewhere — 
are very credulous, and are always ready to do any- 
thing for you when you come to them with a re- 
quest to visit the sick and talk religion to them. 
Now, it was just lucky for my project that Hugh 
w^as suffering more than usual from fits and was 
greatly disturbed by his wonderful visions, as he 
calls them, which cause him to rant about St. Luke’s 
and the steward and the dead man, and to make him 
ask for preachers and prayers. As if these could 
help him any better than poultices and herbs !” 

All nonsense !” said the Fleming, derisively. 
“But go on.” 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 159 

Well, bearing all this in mind, and disguising 
myself lest any of Ledeganck^s people might rec- 
ognize me, and also that I might represent myself 
as Hugh’s father, I went to the shed where we 
had seen the crowd listening to this Harmsen, and, 
finding one of Ledeganck’s men at work near it, I 
asked him if I could see Mr. Harmsen. He went in 
and repeated my request, and after a while Harmsen 
came out into the shed. As I had supposed, it re- 
quired but little eflPort to get him to come with me ; 
and I almost died with laughter at the way he tried 
to help me walk through the sand. Well, I got 
him to the cabin, and the rest you know your- 
self.” 

Yes, and I was not going to make myself heard 
at all,” said Bardes ; “ but when Hugh began with 
his St. Luke’s, I thought I would put in a word or 
two to cut matters short ; for I do not understand 
what St. Luke’s day has to do with the steward 
and Hugh. Do you ?” 

I comprehend it as little as you do,” replied 
the other ; all I know is that St. Luke’s day is the 
eighteenth of October, and that Hugh always feels 
worse about that time. I wonder if this Harmsen 
mentioned that name to the steward and what effect 
it had upon him ? But look ! Who is that yonder 
coming up that low sandhill ?” 

Both men looked sharply, and at some distance 
they observed a man coming toward the cabin. 


160 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


“ That fellow seems to be drunk/’ exclaimed Bar- 
des. 

“ Hush !” said Herman, seizing his companion’s 
arm ; do you not recognize who it is ?” 

‘^No, I do not,” said the Fleming. ‘^Who is 
it?” 

^^Why, no one else than the steward of Wyn- 
gaerden House. Let us leave this place now ; and 
when the miser is well in the house, let us improve 
our chance to rummage his money-chest.” 

The two robbers withdrew behind the hut to 
await the steward’s coming. Scarce had they con- 
cealed themselves there when Geert Herman again 
seized the Fleming’s arm, and, pointing in the 
direction of Wassenaar, he said. 

Look who is coming !” 

The evangelist ?” asked Bardes. 

Yes, it is Harmsen,” replied Herman. ‘‘Here 
we have two birds killed with one stone. Now I 
am curious to know what sort of a time these two 
will have here. But let us get away and hide our- 
selves, so that neither of them may discover us.” 

While the two villains were creeping on hands 
and knees through the sand to conceal themselves 
among some blackberry-bushes not far from the 
cabin, and while the steward from the direction 
of the Rapers sandhills, and Walter from that of 
Wassenaar, were approaching the hut, four men 
might have been seen emerging from a piece of 


AN A WAKENED CONSCIENCE. 


161 


woods bordering on the sandhills, one of them 
being on horseback. 

Remember well what I have told you, men,” 
said the latter, who seemed to have a right to 
command. You must approach the hut from 
three different directions, and whatever rascals you 
find there you will arrest and bind securely. Do 
you understand?” 

Yes, Your Honor,” answered the three others. 

After you have done that, do you,” pointing 
with his finger to one of the men, come back to 
this spot to report, and then we will make arrange- 
ments for what is next to be done.” 

Very well, Mr. Gael,” said the one addressed. 

But what are we to do with the sick man ?” 

Let him lie where he is until I come up with 
the otlier constables whom I left at the farm 
of Persy n. Be careful to make sure of the cloth- 
weaver and the Fleming. Understand ?” 

Certainly, Mr. Sheriff,” was the reply. 

Well, then, off to your duty. It is still day- 
light, so they cannot get away without your see- 
ing them. Do not let those fellows escape you, 
for you know they are as slippery as eels.” 

We will take care of that. Your Honor,” said 
one of the men. If once we get them into our 
hands, they shall not get away from us.” 

Mr. Loth Huyghens Gael, sheriff of Leyden, 
now left the woods and rode toward the farm he 


11 


162 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


had mentioned to his men, which was situated close 
beside the Rapers dune, while the three constables 
entered the sandhills from three different directions 
intending to approach the hut with great caution, lest 
their coming should prematurely be discovered. 


CHAPTER XVT. 

THE MYSTERY UNFOLDED. 

T^ITHIN the cabin lay Hugh. It was very 
* * still ; nothing was heard but the heaving of 
a troubled breast. 

This miserable hut had not originally been erected 
for a dwelling-house. Formerly it had served as a 
refuge from the rain or the hail when the nobility 
of the neighborhood were in the habit of hunting 
the coneys or the dune-rabbits, in case they were 
overtaken by a sudden storm ; but since coney- 
hunting had gone out of fashion the hut remained 
as a relic of former sports, and was made to serve 
as a shelter to many a highwayman or fisherman 
belated hereabouts, to whom it afforded a night- 
lodging sufficiently comfortable. Having been dis- 
covered by Geert Herman and his accomplices, 
they made it their rendezvous. Here they had 
fixed up a place for Hugh to pass his time while 
suffering from his fits. 

Poor Hugh ! he lay there quite forsaken. Being 
afflicted both in body and in soul, he was indeed to 
be pitied. He was a partner in the evil practices 

163 


164 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


of the cloth -weaver and the Fleming, and was thus 
wholly in their power and at the mercy of their 
moods and wishes. Within the last few days he 
had been entirely incapacitated by terrible attacks 
of his old malady, and thus could not share in 
their criminal exploits. From time to time he 
had tried to raise himself from the bed of moss 
that had been spread on the floor, but he had 
found it impossible ; now he lay perfectly still. 
He tried to sleep, but neither did he succeed in 
this ; he therefore lay quietly looking toward the 
entrance to the cabin and hoping that some comfort 
or help might come to him, although also oppressed 
by the expectation of what of a different nature 
might come. 

But it was comfort that came first. After Hugh 
had been waiting in vain for some time, a person 
appeared at the entrance, and Hugh perceived with 
joy that it was Walter Harmsen. 

Have you really come?’’ asked Hugh, with 
feeble voice. I did not dare to hope it.” 

“ Yes, indeed,” replied Walter ; the conviction 
that you were more in need of the consolations of 
the gospel than of cordials for the body made me 
anxious to visit you again when we could be alone 
together without fear of interruption. How are 
you feeling now?” 

^^Oh,” replied Hugh, laying his hand on his 
heart and heaving a deep sigh, am pressed 


THE MYSTERY UNFOLDED. 


165 


down by a heavy burden which threatens to crush 
me.” 

“You must have committed some great wrong,” 
said Walter — “ at least, I judge so from your words 
at our last interview. Can you not make it good 
in some way? Have you perhaps robbed some 
one, or are you guilty of even greater sin? In 
his word the Lord directs that we shall first recon- 
cile ourselves to our neighbor before we ask forgive- 
ness from him. He is indeed merciful and gracious, 
but neither will nor can he extend his mercy to us 
so long as we leave unrepaired an injury to our 
neighbor. Have you thought of this?” 

The patient nodded his head affirmatively. 

“ Well, then,” continued Walter, “ first of all, 
remove such obstacles. I will gladly be of ser- 
vice to you if you will confide in me. Tell me 
what oppresses you. We are here alone.” 

Hugh was not so sure of this, and whispered, 

“ These thin boards may have ears behind 
them.” 

“ But I saw no one as I came here,” said Wal- 
ter. “You may safely speak.” 

“ Did you see the steward of Wyngaerden 
House ?” began Hugh. 

“Yes; this morning.” 

“Will he come to me?” inquired the sufferer, 
with a look of mingled hope and fear. 

“ I do not know,” answered Walter. “ He was, 


166 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


however, terribly startled when I spoke the words 
you requested me to mention to him/^ 

^^Then he will come — yes, he must come; he 
dare not long delay. There is retribution.’^ 

‘‘Certainly,” said Walter; “the Lord shall 
render unto every man according to his works. 
Such as have obeyed unrighteousness will receive 
indignation and wrath, but he who confesses his 
sins shall find great comfort in Jesus; for he did 
not come to condemn the world, but to save it.” 

Hugh sighed ; his conscience confirmed the truth 
of what Walter said. 

“But tell me: why is it that those words had 
such power to startle the hard heart of that man ?” 

The patient looked at Walter with a searching 
glance, as if he wished to satisfy himself that con- 
fidence might be reposed in him. 

“ Listen,” said Hugh, with a great effort. “ But 
come close to me, so that I can whisper in your 
ear ; then I will tell you.” 

Walter placed himself as closely as possible to 
the prostrate form of the sick man, his back to the 
door and bending his head down to his mouth. 
He then said, 

“ Now you may proceed, but do so in truth and 
sincerity, as under the eye of God.” 

Hugh took Walter’s hand, and, slightly raising 
himself with Walter’s aid, he spoke as follows : 

“ It is now nearly six years ago. I was then no 


THE MYSTERY UNFOLDED. 


167 


better than I am now, but maintained myself by 
thieving and robbery. On a certain evening — that 
of the eighteenth of October — I was sitting here in 
this cabin mending some nets, when the door was 
suddenly opened, and a man entered. My first 
impulse was to take flight,” continued Hugh, who 
spoke with frequent intervals, which we will omit 
to indicate, “ for I thought it might be one of the 
spies of justice, and I seized my hunting-knife, 
when this man held me by the wrist and whispered, 
^ Do you want to earn five florins ?’ I looked at 
the man in amazement, thinking he was insane, for 
five florins is a sum which it would require a brick- 
layer all of six months to earn.* I at once com- 
prehended, however, that this sum would not be 
given me for any light service, and as my conscience 
did not trouble me much at that time, and as I knew 
the man and that his ability to pay me was beyond 
question, I greedily accepted his offer. ^Come 
along with me, then,’ said the man. He left the 
cabin, and I followed him. An hour later we 
stood in front of a house. It was almost totally 
dark when the heavy door had closed behind me. 
The man left me alone a few moments, and then 
returned with a lantern, after which he led me 
through one or two dark hallways to a cellar. The 

* The render is to recall the fact that in those days money 
was much scarcer and its purchasing power much greater than 
to-day. 


168 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


floor of the cellar was laid with red bricks. ‘ What 
do you want me to do ?’ I asked the man, expect- 
ing something in the line of my trade. — ‘ I want 
you to dig in the floor of this cell a hole large 
enough to contain a human body,’ he replied. — ‘ Is 
there a corpse in this house, then ?’ I asked. He 
hesitated a few moments, and then spoke in decis- 
ive tones : ‘ Hugh, you can keep a secret, can you 
not ?’ — ‘ Like the grave you wish me to dig,’ 1 an- 
swered. — ‘ Exactly,’ he said ; ^ I knew that, and 
therefore I chose you. Up stairs, in one of the 
chambers, there is a stranger who — ’ He stopped. 
— ^ Who must be put in here,’ I said, pointing to 
the ground. — ‘Yes,’ he answered. — ‘And what is 
that person doing now ?’ I asked, longing for the 
money. — ‘ He is now in the chamber in the round 
tower, busy packing, for he is about to leave, 
and — ’ — ‘ And that you wish to prevent,’ I said, 
smiling significantly. The man nodded his head in 
assent. ‘ Well,’ I continued, ‘ there’s a way of doing 
that, but — ’ — ‘Well, what?’ he inquired, eagerly. 
— ‘ Five florins for the grave, and ten for — ’ The 
man laughed bitterly. ‘ Fifteen florins !’ he said. 
‘ What do you mean ? That is a fortune. How 
can you expect me to give you as much as that ?’ — 
‘ Then I go away again, and — ’ I said. — ‘ No,’ he 
rejoined; ‘stay.’ — ‘ And you will pay me fifteen flor- 
ins ?’ — ‘ Ten,’ was the reply. — ‘ But a man’s life is 
surely worth more than five florins ?’ I observed. — 


THE MYSTERY UNFOLDED. 


169 


‘ I will not give you more than that/ he replied, 
roughly. — ^ Then I go back to the sandhills.^ He 
looked at me for a moment or two, undecided what 
to do. I could easily read in his face how the lust 
for the gold of others tempted him to this deed, 
but that he wished to get it done as cheaply as pos- 
sible. I had already taken a step or two toward the 
hall and pretended to be going. He seized me by 
the arm, however, and said, struggling severely 
with himself, ^All right; I will give you the 
money you say if you will swear by the salvation 
of your soul never to utter a word about my having 
brought you here.’ — ^ Yes, but on one condition will 
I agree to swear this,’ said I, becoming bolder now 
that he had made known his evil design. — ‘And 
what is it?’ he asked. — ‘That at the end of six 
years I shall be free from my oath and you pay 
me the same sum over again.’ He looked at me in 
some wonder ; but whether he thought that at the 
end of that time he or I would long have disap- 
peared from the earth, or that he would probably 
find some means of shutting my mouth, or that he 
had some other project in mind, I know not. At 
any rate, he at once replied with a cunning smile, 
‘Well, yes; I am satisfied with that condition. 
Ijet the dead rise from the grave, if they will, 
to remind us of this evening.’ ” 

“ How frightful !” said Walter. “ How evil is 
the heart of man ! Did you not remember that in 


170 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


the heavens there is a God who can look down 
into the lowest depths?’^ 

Alas, no,” answered Hugh, with feeble voice, 
while he waited a few moments to rest himself. I 
thought at that time just as little about God, about 
retribution or about my own death as about the 
possibility that the dead might rise to remind me 
of that evening. And yet he has done so. Not 
an hour passes but he stands here or there or in 
yonder corner.” 

Hugh could not speak a word further ; he ner- 
vously clutched Walter’s arm, as if a dreadful fear 
had overcome him. It took Walter some time to 
soothe him, wiping the cold sweat from his fore- 
head and assuring him that there was nobody in 
the room. 

Hugh continued : 

That same night, after I had dug the grave, 
the man led me along several halls and stairways to 
a large chamber. Through a glass door I saw seat- 
ed at a table a young man of at most five and twen- 
ty years ; he was busy writing. Upon the floor lay 
several articles necessary to a pereon upon a journey, 
but I distinctly remember a small square box that 
stood upon the table. What this casket contained 
I could not tell, but doubtless this had excited the 
cupidity of my tempter. ‘ There he is,’ the latter 
whispered to me. ^ Enter softly and spring sud- 
denly upon him ; I will do the rest. Think of 


THE MYSTERY UNFOLDED. 


171 


the fifteen florins/ At first I felt a cold chill creep 
over my whole body, but the longing to possess so 
mucli money took away all hesitation. The young 
man had a military bearing and seemed strong and 
athletic, but the man assured me that he had been se- 
verely wounded some months before, was only just 
recovering from the effects and was still weak. I 
noiselessly opened the door, and before the stran- 
ger could turn I had attacked him from behind and 
clasped my hands about his throat. ^ What do you 
wish V he gasped, in scarce audible and smothered 
tones. ^ You are not going to murder me ? Oh, 
my poor wife ! my dear child ! Spare my life f I 
released my hold somewhat, for I began to feel pity 
for the helpless youth. The man who had tempted 
me observed my slight hesitation ; in the same in- 
stant he sprang forward, lifted a heavy axe on high, 
and before I suspected it or could prevent it the 
murderous tool fell upon the head of the unhap- 
py stranger.” 

Walter shuddered as he listened to this recital. 

^ Murderers cried the stranger with his dying 
breath. ^ God will bring to light this your misdeed 
even though the saints themselves should rise from 
their graves. To-day is St. Luke’s — ’ He could 
speak no more; his lips were sealed for ever. 
That very night I buried him. Ere I lowered 
the corpse into the grave — which the man of whom 
I have spoken left me to do alone — I found a silver 


172 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


ring on one of his index-fingers and a girdle about 
his body. Both these articles I secured and pre- 
served — why, I do not know. But about a year 
ago I parted with them for a small consideration to 
Geert Herman. A few days after the murder I left 
this region and went to Overyssel. After wander- 
ing about and trying my hand at various things, 
sometimes enlisting as a soldier, I came to Steen wyk 
and became acquainted with a certain woman named 
Aalt. I suspect she knows my secret, and I can ac- 
count for this in no other way but that either in 
dreams or during the fits to which I am subject 
some expression about St. Luke’s day, a ring 
and a girdle may have escaped me. Only about a 
year ago I came back to these parts and allowed 
myself to fall into the snares of Herman and 
Bardes. But the Lord knows how painful these 
practices now are to me, and how greatly I desire 
the pardon of God. Oh, if the man who is guilty 
of the blood of that stranger were only here !” 

‘^Who is the dreadful murderer? And what 
was the steward’s connection with him, that he 
should be so deeply affected by a reference to St. 
Luke’s day? Did he profit by the purchase of 
that casket from him? Or — ” 

But Walter suddenly ceased speaking, as there 
flashed upon him a horrible suspicion which 
seemed too awful for expression. 

“I am not permitted to mention that man’s 


THE MYSTERY UNFOLDED. 


173 


name/^ said Hugh ; as I told you, I am bound 
by an oath until St. Luke^s day.^’ 

Scarcely had these words been uttered when a 
loud cry was heard. A man burst into the cabin ; 
it was the steward of Wyngaerden House : 

Hide me ! Save me ! They come ! The dead 
man comes ! There he is ! He is pursuing me ! 
Ah, whither shall I flee 

A cold shiver trembled through Walter’s frame 
when he saw this man standing before him in the 
twilight of the setting sun ; for, although Hugh had 
not mentioned the murderer’s name, circumstances 
now too plainly pointed to the steward as the man 
and Wyngaerden House as the scene. He could 
no longer doubt, when the old man stood there 
wringing his hands and making these incoherent 
outcries. 

The aroused conscience and the desperate re- 
morse of the latter left him not a moment’s repose. 
Seized by a new fancy, he ran about the apartment 
like one possessed, and at length sank down in the 
same corner where Hugh lay upon his miserable 
pallet. Thus, after endeavoring to suppress the 
voice of conscience through six years, an awful 
fear had again brought together these partners 
in crime. They now experienced the truth of the 
fact that how long soever the forbearance of God 
may endure and his justice seem tardy, yet the 
day of the Lord comes like a thief in the night. 


174 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Walter had risen ; he judged that this was both 
a time and a place for the work of an evangelist. 

Mr. Steward/^ he said to the old man, pointing 
to Hugh, there lies a poor man who perhaps ere 
long will have to appear at the judgment-seat of 
God. Is it not high time for you also to confess 
your guilt before an earthly judge as well as be- 
fore a heavenly Judge? Now is the time. Fall 
upon your knees; call upon the precious blood 
of Jesus Christ, and perhaps — 

“ Oh, oh groaned the steward. Only let 
Hugh keep still ; I will give him double the 
money — double the fifteen florins — if he but says 
nothing.’’ 

I do not wish your hush-money,” said Hugh, 
with feeble voice ; my life has no more value to 
me. And what good would it do you if I kept 
still? The dead man speaks.” 

Yes, yes ! Oh,” screamed the steward, he 
pronounces the sentence ; he says ^ St. Luke’s.’ ” 
“ Recollect yourself,” said Walter, deeply moved 
by what he saw and heard. Ho what I tell you : 
confess your sins before God and deliver yourself 
up to the earthly judge.” 

No, no !” cried the steward, beating his fore- 
head with his open palm. ‘‘I will live; I will 
not deliver myself up. Mr. Gael knows no mercy ; 
I will not die. I will collect all my treasures and 
escape everywhere, anywhere, I maj^” 


THE MYSTERY UNFOLDED. 


175 


But you can escape neither the Lord nor his 
avenging justice/^ said Walter. 

Yet I will do it” cried the steward. ^^No one 
can tell where the dead man lies ; I will dig another 
grave. I am old, but strong. No one shall know 
it. Oh, the dead man ! He comes ! he comes 
In the agony of his remorse the steward sprang 
to his feet and was about to rush from the hut, 
when in the same instant three men appeared at 
its entranee. The steward staggered baek in amaze- 
ment : they were constables in the service of Mr. 
Loth Huyghens Gael. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST. 

HILE the events just related were taking 



* * place in the cabin in the sandhills, and while 
Geert Herman and Fran9ois were on their way to 
Wyngaerden House, a large covered wagon was 
proceeding along the high-road between The Hague 
and Leyden. It had left The Hague while it was 
still daylight, but upon entering the extensive for- 
est that stretches north of the city the shades of 
evening seemed prematurely to descend. The 
travelers, however, had provided themselves with 
torches, as they had expected that darkness would 
be upon them during part of their ride, and they 
had not gone far along the forest-road when they 
were compelled to light these. In the wagon, next 
to the driver, was seated a tall woman. The sec- 
ond seat, farther back under the canvas cover, was 
occupied by two other women, whose clothes and 
bearing, so far as could be seen even by the fitful 
light of the torches, indicated a condition in society 
superior to that of the woman upon the front seat. 
Between the two ladies “feat a boy of about nine 


176 


A RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST. 177 


years, whose head leaned against the breast of one 
of them, and who was held by her in a close em- 
brace. 

J oris,” cried the tall woman, whom by this ex- 
clamation we at once recognize as Dame Ruikmans 
— ^^Joris, be careful not to let the flame of the 
torch strike the eye of the horse on your side. 
We might else have an accident, and then, as Script- 
ure says, the last would be worse than the first.” 

Joris was walking ahead of the horses to light 
the way. 

Do not be uneasy, dear wife,” replied the mani- 
kin. I am little, but not stupid ; I have had too 
much experience of life for that. — And,” he sighed, 
in inaudible tones, not the least with you, either.” 

What is that you are muttering now ?” cried 
the woman. No doubt you are dissatisfied with 
my admonitions. Have I not always told and 
taught you that as your wife you must have re- 
spect unto me ? That is what our Bible says. But 
you give no heed to this, and listen rather to your 
priests, who are too stupid to live alone and had 
much better have a good sensible wife for a com- 
panion. Yes, you need not grumble,” thinking 
she heard a sound to that effect ; what I tell you 
is the pure truth.” 

At this juncture a gentle hand was laid upon the 
speaker’s gown, and one of the ladies on the back 
seat whispered, 

12 


178 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


not speak so harshly to your husband, 
Dame Ruikmans ; for you know that the same 
Scripture which you so frequently quote teaches us 
that we must love one another, and particularly that 
a wife must submit herself to her husband and be 
subject to him. This is well-pleasing in the eyes 
of the Lord.’’ 

“I know that very well. Baroness van Vloos- 
wyk,” replied Dame Ruikmans, *‘but one could 
not have any control over some men if one did not 
keep them a little under the thumb. It is just the 
proof of my love that I cannot endure his being so 
reckless as not to listen to what I say. What would 
have become of the little man if I had not taken 
up with him? Yes, and if he had to bring up the 
child of the Flemish lady alone, it would have 
grown up a pretty sort of boy.” 

“ I believe,” said the lady next to Baroness van 
Vlooswyk, and whose Flemish accent betrayed the 
foreigner — I believe that my di ar boy has not had 
such a bad time of it with your husband. He 
has told me over and over again how much he 
thought of him. — Is it not so, dear ?” she continued, 
addressing the boy and fervently pressing him to her 
heart. 

Joris Ruikmans is a nice man,” said the boy, 
with decision, “ and I like him ever so much !” 

Oh,” said the Flemish lady — a remark that had 
not lacked for repetition during this ride — I can- 


A RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST. 179 


not express to you, clear Jacoba, how happy I am 
that I have recovered my child. How marvelous 
are the ways of the Lord ! I cannot indeed fully 
make up my mind to cast myself loose from our 
ancient mother-Church, but I am quite willing to 
enter into a closer and more personal communion 
with my God and Saviour, apart from the interven- 
tion of priests and saints, seeing that he has entered 
so signally into my very life and its peculiar circum- 
stances. Perhaps longer and constant contact with 
you and a prolonged stay in a land where the very 
atmosphere and surroundings of faith are so differ- 
ent from ours might bring me to what you are urg- 
ing me. Yet I have gained, and will never aban- 
don, this sense of personal, individual communion 
with my own precious Lord.^^ 

Yes, you are right, my dear,” said Lady van 
Vlooswyk. The ways of the Lord are indeed 
wonderful. How much — ” The sudden stopping 
of the wagon interrupted the lady^s speech. 

It had become completely dark, and yet the trav- 
elers had not emerged from the forest. The two 
gentlewomen naturally supposed that something 
was wrong about the wagon, and they bent over 
to the wife of Joris to inquire what it was. While 
the others were conversing the latter had taken the 
opportunity to hurl at the head of the much-endur- 
ing manikin an occasional admonition or precept 
from the Bible, or, as Joris called it himself, had 


180 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


read him many an epistle. When she perceived 
that the horses were checked and stood still, she 
nearly pushed the driver off the seat in her en- 
deavor to lean far enough out of the vehicle to 
have a good look at Joris’s proceedings. 

But, Joris, what are you up to now ?” she ex- 
claimed. “Are you holding the horses? What 
does that mean?^^ 

“ I heard the sound of approaching hoofs,^’ re- 
plied the husband, “ and we have need of being a 
little cautious in this dark forest. — Hey, there ! 
who goes there he called, aloud, peering into 
the darkness before him. 

“ A friend was the reply. 

At the same time appeared within the glare of 
the torch a man on horseback who was at once rec- 
ognized by Joris as Major Gapertz, and heartily 
saluted by him, as he was not a little relieved to 
find there was no cause for alarm ; besides, he knew 
the major was to form one of their party, and this 
addition to their forces materially lessened his fears 
for the remainder of the journey. 

“The baroness Van Vlooswyk is in the wagon, 
Joris, is she not?’’ inquired the major. 

“Yes, major, and the little Walburgius and his 
mother are with her also.” 

“ Ah, indeed ! Your estimable wife ?” 

Joris was about to reply, but the major had now 
come close to the wagon and begun his salutations 


A RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST. 181 

to the high-born lady and the other woman with- 
in. 

Everything is ari^anged, noble lady/^ he said. 

have carried out your orders without betray- 
ing your coming to the one from whom it was to 
be kept secret.’^ 

And where is — ” 

^^Do you mean my friend Walter Harmsen, 
Lady Jacoba? I parted from him this afternoon 
at the Wassenaar lane. He thought I was going 
straight to The Hague, but in this he was mistaken ; 
for no sooner was I out of his sight than I turned 
my horse^s head and rode back to the country-seat 
of Lord Marnix to announce your coming.” 

Then they have only recently received word as 
to our probable arrival?” asked Jacoba, with some 
concern. 

I could not do otherwise, dear lady,” laughed 
the major, ^Mf I would faithfully carry out your 
intentions ; for I was not to awaken any suspicion 
in the mind of our friend Walter, you know. It 
was hard enough to preserve my innocence, too, 
when I had to listen to your letter and receive the 
news of your coming as if I did not know you 
were hereabouts already. But if I had let out a 
single hint of it to little Walburg while Walter 
was still near her, it could not have been kept 
secret a moment; for while, of course, she would 
not have spoken of it, it would have beamed from 


182 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


her face and eyes. I had to wait, therefore, till 
Walter had gone. Then I had to go with him to 
the point where our ways separated, and hurry back 
to our friends again. But now all are in readiness 
for your reception, and, according to agreement, I 
have ridden to meet you and be your escort through 
this dark forest.” 

“I am really very grateful to you for all the 
trouble you liave taken,” said Lady Jacoba. But 
now I have a reward for you too in the shape of 
a surprise. Here in the wagon with me is a lady 
with whom I will make you acquainted if you will 
come and ride with us.” 

The major alighted from his horse and, not with- 
out some difficulty, ascended the wagon. A chair 
had been provided for him near the seat occupied 
by the two ladies ; and when he was comfortably 
settled in his place — Joris, meanwhile, taking charge 
of the major’s faithful steed — the Lady Jacoba 
introduced him to her Flemish friend and con- 
tinued : 

When I called at your residence and arranged 
with you for this surprise to Mr. Harmsen, I did 
not know that you were the very person I should 
have applied to in the case of my friend. We had 
purposed to let her arrival remain unknown for a 
few days that we might have the advantage of 
secrecy in our endeavors to realize her hopes, and 
so I made no mention of her ; but on my way back 


A RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST. 183 


to our stopping-place I met Joris Ruikmans in 
the street. It was not difficult for me to recog- 
nize him, and he was oveijoyed when I made myself 
known to him. We happened to be near his shop, 
and nothing would satisfy him but I must make 
the acquaintance of his wife. Of course I had not 
long been in the house of Joris before he brought 
to me his foster-son, of whom he is not a little 
proud ; that led to explanations which at once 
arrested my attention and filled my heart with an 
overflowing gratitude to God. I hurried back to 
my friend, and, gradually preparing her mind for 
the happy encounter which might be in store for 
her — yet in which, after all, she might be cruelly 
disappointed — we set out together to visit the house 
of Joris. When we were approaching the door, 
who should be coming from another direction to 
the same point but the woman- or housemaid who 
in the very night six years ago when the great mis- 
fortune of her life befell her came to her and gave 
her information of an encouraging kind, but yet not 
such as to put her in the way of remedying her 
grief r 

^^You are purposely speaking in riddles, it 
seems, my dear lady,” observed the major, ‘^al- 
though I begin to feel my way toward your mean- 
ing, especially with Walburgius before me in the arms 
of your friend.” 

“ Yes, but you must not jump at conclusions,” 


184 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


laughed Jacoba; ^‘you must hear every detail of 
the wonderful circumstances, and then you may 
speak your mind. Well, then/’ she continued, 
seriously, “ at the siege of Steenwyk this lady was 
separated from her husband and her child. The 
girl we met at Joris’s door informed her that the 
child’s nume had been killed, but that the child 
was not. More she did not or would not tell then, 
but now she told my friend that the boy who had 
been adopted by you and brought up by Joris and 
his wife was her child, for she knew that it had 
been carried to these parts, and had been taken in 
charge by the two officers who led the troops that 
were to prevent the reinforcement from entering 
the city ; but she had not learned these particulars 
till after she had seen the lady. My friend could 
scarcely contain herself, but at last we mustered 
nerve and strength sufficient to enter the house. 
One glance at the boy satisfied the mother’s heart, 
and it was truly a happy sight to see the glad re- 
union.” 

The memory of it will never depart from me,” 
said the Flemish lady, at this juncture. — I was 
not to speak, major, till Lady Jacoba had made you 
acquainted with our success, but what can I say in 
gratitude for all you have done for my child ?” 

Say nothing, my dear lady ; my best reward is 
your present happiness,” said the major. “ And to 
God, above all, should be given the glory of these 


A RIDE THROUGH THE FOREST. 185 

wonderful and merciful providences. But did you 
ever find your husband ? I understand you were 
separated from him at the same time.’^ 

“ Yes/’ answered the lady. My husband, 
though severely wounded, was not dangerously 
hurt ; he was just able to be moved when Steen- 
wyk capitulated, and then, of course, I at once 
joined him, for I had learned from one of the sol- 
diers who escaped with me that they had seen him 
carried into the town by the small number who suc- 
ceeded in reaching the gates. It was not till the be- 
ginning of October, however, that he was barely 
strong enough to go upon a journey, and then at 
once he set out for these parts. We had received 
some obscure intimation that the child had been 
conveyed hither, but how or by whom we could 
not ascertain. But, alas ! that effort to recover our 
child cost me the loss of my husband also ; I never 
saw him again, nor did I learn what became of him. 
The woman whom I met at Joris’s, however, told 
me of a young man who was murdered at Wyn- 
gaerden House about that time, and that there 
were taken from his body a ring and a girdle which 
were preserved by one of the murderers, and which 
she thonght she could bring me. Should I see them, 
the identity between that unfortunate man and my 
husband would be established beyond a doubt.” 

A sudden eruption of mingled horror and grief 
checked the speaker’s utterance. 


186 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


Your life, my dear lady,” observed the major, 
‘‘has indeed been checkered by great griefe and 
mercies ; but it behooves us to forget the grievous 
past in the happy issue of the present, and we shall 
trust that your boy may grow up to fill the place of 
both husband and son.” 

Meanwfiile, the wagon had nearly reached the 
place where the Wassenaar lane crossed the road. 
Suddenly there was seen approaching from the di- 
rection of the sandhills the light of several torches, 
accompanied by the sound of horses’ hoofs and the 
voices of several men. 

Major Gapertz quickly left the wagon and mount- 
ed his horse. Directing the driver and Joris to 
hold the horses and remain where they were, he 
rode into the woods on the side of the road to as- 
certain what this meant. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE SHERIFF AND HIS PRISONERS. 

T he major had not ridden far when he was met 
by a person on horseback who was accompanied 
by a servant carrying a lighted torch. 

Who goes there cried the major, who was ac- 
customed to com&iand. 

Respect for the law f ’ sounded the reply. I 
am the sherilf of Leyden, Mr. Loth Huyghens 
Gael.^’ 

The major, who Avas a personal friend of this 
dignitary, at once rode up to him and made himself 
known, informing the sheriff that he was conduct- 
ing two ladies to the house of Lord St. Aldegonde. 

We have made a fortunate catch, major,^^ the 
sheriff communicated, on his part; ^^we have ar- 
rested the greatest villain of this place. We had 
come out to secure some other rogues, but these must 
have suspected our coming and made their escape. 
But I have sent my constables after them, and I 
should not wonder if Ave get them too this same 
night. But, as I have said, we caught the biggest 
rascal of all. We also have with us a poor sinner 

187 


188 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


whom we are carrying along out of mere pity. The 
miserable wretch is sick unto death, and we are try- 
ing to get him as far as the farm of peasant Allers, 
so that he may be made comfortable there, though 
I fear he will not reach it alive. I told you we 
were doing this for simple pity, for he deserves at 
once to be taken to prison, because he is as much a 
rogue as any of the others ; but we show him this 
mercy out of consideration to the wishes of your 
friend.'' 

Of my friend ?" inquired the major, somewhat 
surprised. 

Yes. You have a friend by the name of Wal- 
ter Harmseu, have you not?" said the sheriff. 
“There he is among the constables yonder who 
are conveying the sick man." 

“How?" cried the major, in surprise. “Is my 
friend Harmsen here ? I thought he would be at 
home with the family of Lord Marnix by this 
time." Thus saying, he turned and rode back to 
the wagon, informing the occupants that Walter 
Harmsen was of the party which they had en- 
countered. 

Lady Jacoba rose from her seat, and she as well 
as the Flemish lady and the wife of Joris, with the 
boy, descended from the wagon. 

“ There they come," said the sheriff, pointing to 
a number of men slowly moving along a wooded 
sandhill. 


THE SHERIFF AND HIS PRISONERS. 189 


At the same instant a yell as of a madman rose 
upon the night-air, mingled with remonstrances 
from the constables. 

It is a difficult job to keep this man under 
control, Mr. Sheriff,’’ said one of them, who with 
two or three of his fellows was holding an old 
man by the arms. 

There, major ! this is the most wicked of all 
the villains I have ever had to deal with,” said the 
dignitary. 

The eyes of the party were directed to the 
person thus designated. 

Why, it is the steward of Wyngaerden House !” 
exclaimed Joris. 

Let me go !” yelled the prisoner, furiously 
struggling to tear himself from the grasp of his 
captors. must go home; the dead man is wait- 
ing for me. St. Luke’s day is at hand.” 

It seems to me,” said the major, “ that the 
man is insane.” 

“ Then he must have very suddenly become so,” 
said the sheriff. He is an old rascal, cunning as 
a fox, and has played many a sharp trick on us 
before. But look ! there comes the other party.” 

A few of the men were carrying a stretcher 
upon which lay Hugh. At the side of the sick 
man walked Walter, who addressed an occasional 
word to the sufferer. 

Suddenly another scream burst from the stew- 


190 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


ard, who was staring with wild fright at the child 
of the Flemish lady. 

It is he !’’ he shrieked. Those are the same 
eyes with which he looked at me that night ! 
Oh, it is lie ! it is he He made another des- 
perate attempt to escape from the constables, the 
fitful light of the torches giving him the appear- 
ance of a wicked soul already suffering the pains 
of eternal torment. 

Take the villain away from here,” commanded 
the sheriff, and be careful not to let him put an 
end to his own life. I shall presently follow you.” 

The men in charge of the prisoner proceeded on 
their way to Leyden, but for several minutes the 
repeated cries and shrieks of the maddened steward 
could plainly be heard echoing through the woods. 

‘^Mr. Harmsen,” spoke the gentle voice of a 
woman close by the side of the evangelist, whose 
attention was wholly taken up with the pitiable 
object upon the stretcher, ‘^have you, then, ever 
ears and eyes only for the unfortunate and the 
suffering ?” 

Walter quickly turned at these words; a strange 
emotion stirred his heart to its very depths. 

‘^Jacoba! Lady Jacoba !” he stammered, when 
by the light of the torches he perceived the famil- 
iar winsome features. 

^‘Yes, the same,” said the lady, extending her 
hand. ^‘Is not this a pleasant surprise?” 


THE SHERIFF AND HIS PRISONERS. 191 

I had not expected you so soon. But the Lord 
be praised that I see you here in safety ! It is a 
long, long time since we met.” 

Walter now observed also the lady who accom- 
panied Lady Jacoba, and was about to put a ques- 
tion in regard to her, when a sound proceeding from 
the stretcher drew every one’s attention thither. 

“ Mr. Harmsen,” said the sherifp, who had gone 
to the side of the patient more out of delicacy to 
the feelings of the friends who met after so long 
a separation than from pity for the poor wretch who 
lay there — Mr. Harmsen, will you have the kind- 
ness to come here ? I believe your aid is needed 
more than that of the doctor.” 

Walter immediately approached the sick man. 
It was a touching scene. Surrounded by a number 
of constables, some of whom held burning torches, 
while the major and the sheriff on horseback, and 
the women and Joris Ruikmans, stood near, poor 
Hugh lay upon the rude boards, a prey to violent 
nervous convulsions which left him weaker after 
every attack and were evidently bringing him to 
the brink of the grave. 

Mr. Harmsen,” said Hugh, with great difficul- 
ty, during an interval of quiet, I believe that my 
end is near. I fear that eternity — ” 

Why should you fear, Hugh ?” asked Walter, 
sympathizingly, taking the clammy hand of the 
patient in his own. Have I not told you on the 


192 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


authority of God’s word that the Lord Jesus came 
into the world to save sinners ? He has saved mil- 
lions who were his enemies and sinners — yes/ even 
many who were liars and murderers — and came to 
him with sincere confession of their sins. The Lord 
Jesus loves with. an everlasting love. You may not 
say that he will not save you, for it is just the will 
of God that you should be saved.” 

a I ? j stammered Hugh. I, who was — 
guilty of the blood — of that — stranger?” 

“ Listen carefully, Hugh, to what Paul, the per- 
secutor — yes, perhaps, a murderer — of early Chris- 
tians, has said : ^ This is a faithful saying, and 
worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came 
into the world to save sinners; of whom I am 
chief.’ Even as the Lord showed him mercy, he 
will do likewise with you ; for he is the same yes- 
terday, to-day and for ever. The blood of Jesus 
Christ cleanseth from aU sin. Believe this. If 
you believe not this, you commit the most griev- 
ous sin of all ; for ‘ he that believeth not God, 
hath made him a liar.’ ” 

Hugh bowed his liead upon his breast ; it seemed 
as if these assurances had taken away all his ob- 
stacles to faith, althaugh he had not sufficient con- 
fidence to make it known. With eyes nearly set 
in the fixedness of death he looked upon Walter, 
and said in a voice which betrayed the great fear 
that had possession of him. 


THE SHERIFF AND HIS PRISONERS. 193 


‘^Stay with me; leave me not. You can do 
me — 

‘‘Hugh,” interrupted Walter, firmly but kindly, 
“ you think you can lean upon me, but remember 
that I am only a man saved by grace, just as you 
may be. Turn your confidence away from me 
and look to Jesus ; he is the life, and he brings 
salvation : ‘ Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
thou shalt be saved.’ God delights in mercy ; be 
not afraid to enter into death. Jesus is the resur- 
rection and the life; whosoever belie veth in him, 
though he were dead, yet shall he live.” 

Walter ceased speaking to watch the evidences 
of approaching dissolution. The paleness of death 
spread over the countenance of Hugh, while he 
made a feeble attempt to fold his hands. His lips 
moved, and inaudibly to the spectators, except to 
the ear of Walter, he spoke, saying, 

“Jesus — is my life — and salvation.” Then his 
lips closed for ever. 

Ten minutes later Dame Ruiknians was once 
more seated by the side of the driver, who was 
hurrying his horses to the country-seat of Lord 
Philip St. Aldegonde ; Lady Jacoba, Walburgius — 
as we shall continue *to call him a little longer — 
and his mother occupied tlie second seat, as before. 
The Flemish lady had been made acquainted in 
brief words with the connection which the deceased 
Hugh had with her own misfortunes. 


194 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


The major had ridden on with his friend the 
sheriff — the former, in order to advise the family of 
Lord van Marnix of the approach of their guests ; 
the latter, in order to overtake the constables who 
were on their way to Leyden with the steward of 
Wyngaerden House. The constables who had 
carried Hugh were directed to convey the corpse 
back to Wassenaar, that it might there be buried in 
the village cemetery. 

Walter walked by the side of Joris and took oc- 
casion to enter with the manikin upon another dis- 
cussion in regard to the buying and selling of fine 
linen, and the evangelist expressed the hope that 
Hugh had profited by the teaching he had received, 
and had come into possession of that fine linen by 
faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Not far from their destination our travelers per- 
ceived coming toward them from the direction of 
Leyden some men with torches who seemed to be 
in great haste, and one of whoniy on horseback, 
was soon recognized as the sheriff. 

^^Is the villain here?’^ asked the dignitary, 
stopping at the wagon. 

“ Who?’’ asked Walter and Joris in one breath. 

We have seen no one.” 

‘‘Why, that wdckedest of all miscreants, the 
steward of Wyngaerden House,” replied Mr. Gael, 
in great heat. ' “He escaped the hands of my 
constables, and must have concealed himself some- 


THE SHERIFF AND HIS PRISONERS. 195 

where in this vicinity. But we will catch him 
again, and the others too. — Forward, men !” 

Thus speaking, thfe sheriff put the spurs to his 
horse and dashed with his followers into the 'forest, 
while our friends pursued their way without further 
interruption. 

Soon the wagon turned into the lane between the 
beeches and drew up before the stone steps of Lord 
Philip’s residence. The major and Walburg came 
to welcome the guests, the latter overjoyed that at 
last she was permitted to embrace Lady Jacoba, 
whom she had learned to love by correspondence 
with her. It was a matter of no small delight, 
also, that Walburgius had recovered his mother, 
and most heartily was the latter welcomed. 

^^Look,” said Walburg to the mother when they 
had gone into the house and the latter had been 
presented to the family — look what was brought 
to the house here by a woman who gave her 
name as Aalt, with the request to hand it to you.” 

The mother of Walburgius opened the package 
which the little maiden handed her, and found it 
contained — a ring and a girdle. They were those 
of her murdered husband. The identification was 
now indisputable. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE END OF THE WICKED. 

E lost sight of Geert Herman and Fran5ois 



» * Bardes at the moment that Walter Harmsen 
reached the cabin in the sandhills. They had 
determined to go directly to Wyngaerden House, 
having in view a twofold object — to recover the 
ring and the girdle, and to rob the njoney-chests 
of the steward during the absence of the latter in 
the sandhills. As they went, however, they dis- 
covered on the Rapers sandhill a number of men 
whose business they could not quite make out, but 
who they suspected might be officers of the law. 
They accordingly resolved to wait till night had 
fully come, and concealed themselves in the neigh- 
borhood until darkness should cover their evil 
purposes. When it was totally dark, they emerged 
from their hiding-place and cautiously approached 
Wyngaerden House. They had already crossed 
the little bridge, and were about to go to the rear 
of the mansion to force their way into the stone 
cellar through the window when they were sudden- 
ly confronted by a woman. It was Aalt. She had 


THE END OF THE WICKED. 


197 


forestalled the two thieves, having obtained access 
to the house while the steward was away, descended 
to the cell where she had had the struggle with the 
cloth-weaver, and while it was still daylight searched 
with great diligence for the articles lost on that 
former night. With the ring and the girdle in her 
possession, she was now on her way to leave them 
by appointment at the house of Lord Marnix, for 
the Flemish lady to determine whether they were 
her husbaud^s or not. 

What are you doing here asked Aalt, fear- 
lessly addressing the two robbers. 

Hush !” said Geert. Herman, who was the less 
courageous of the two ; do not speak so loud. 
Do you not know that this old house has ears in 
it?” 

Yes, I know that,” answered Aalt, although 
these walls contain no ears that could make it so 
uncomfortable for you as those in the mill at Steen- 
wyk.” 

Keep still, Aalt,” begged Herman. 

Why should I keep still ?” said the woman, in 
biting tones. You have done the most of your 
evil deeds, for Mr. Gael is upon your track.” 

Oh, he will not find us,” said Bardes, derisive- 
ly ; we are safe here, aud the sheriff is a good 
way off.” 

^^Of course,” assented the cloth-weaver. ^‘We 
shall try our chance here for the last time, aud then 


198 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


we shall get away from these parts for good ; so 
Mr. Gael may whistle after us, if he will.” 

Ha, ha, ha !” laughed Bardes. How queer 
he will look wheu he hears of it !” 

Do not be so loud, Bardes,” urged Geert, re- 
proachfully. 

“ No, Bardes, keep quiet ; then perhaps our friend 
Geert will be able once more to hear the cries of 
pain and terror from that poor nurse who was 
killed by a pretended soldier in the old mill at 
Steenwyk to which she had fled with the child 
after being separated from its mother, and — ” 

Hush !” spoke the cloth-weaver, in great alarm. 
‘‘ No one knows of it but you. The child came to 
no harm, and the mother is in The Hague; she 
will soon find it again. So what hurt was done, 
after all ?” 

I will keep quiet after this,” said the house- 
maid, “but others will not. Think about Mr. 
Gael.” 

“Listen,” said Herman, with the cowardice of 
a murderer convicted of his misdeed. “Be still 
to-day ; to-morrow you may talk as much as you 
like.” 

“^To-morrow’?” said the housemaid. “Are 
you so sure that you will be safe to-morrow? You 
may be — ” 

“ Oh, I know what you are going to say,” said 
the cloth-weaver, mocking in his turn : “ dead, you 


THE END OF THE WICKED. 


199 


meant. No, not this night. We want to have a 
good time of it first, and then — But come, Bar- 
des ; what is the use of us wasting our time here 
talking? Let us go on with our business. It is 
high time.” 

So saying, the two highwaymen left the woman, 
and Aalt proceeded on her way, saying to herself, 
Those villains ! They imagine they are so safe, 
and they do not know that I have to-day revealed 
everything to the sheriflP of Leyden, and that even 
now his constables are on their track. But, what 
is best of all, I have attained my object : I have 
found the ring and the girdle of which Hugh spoke 
so often, and which will be very acceptable to the 
Flemish lady.” She disappeared among the trees, 
and was soon upon the road leading to the residence 
of Lord van Marnix. 

Meanwhile, Geert Herman and Fran9ois Bardes 
had reached the window of the stone cellar. It 
was easily forced open, and after the cloth- weaver 
had pushed himself through Bardes followed his 
example. This was the apartment in which Her- 
man had spent a part of the night between Satur- 
day and Sunday, and here, of course, must be found 
the ring and the girdle. By the aid of a flintstone 
and tinder was lighted a small piece of candle, 
which the men placed in a dark-lantern. And 
now they began to search, but it need not be said 
that their search was in vain. 


200 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


At length it struck the two villains that the 
housemaid must have been here before them, for 
the cloth-weaver remembered how much value she 
set upon the coveted articles. They grew furious 
at their own stupidity in not thinking of this while 
they were talking with her, and Geert swore that 
he would make her pay for this trick. They now 
gave up looking for the missing articles, and deter- 
mined to ascend to the upper portions of the house, 
where the steward kept his treasures; but when 
they tried to open the door leading into the hall, 
they found it locked. 

That is wretched !’’ said the cloth-weaver. 

So it is,’^ assented the Fleming. What is to 
be done pow? We cannot force that door open, 
for it is an iron one, and I see no other way of get- 
ting up stairs.’’ 

But may there not be another door here ?” said 
Geert, feeling along the walls. “ I have heard that 
the steward had several vaults full of old stutf. 
Yes, here is a door,” he continued, lifting his 
lantern, but I find no keyhole. Wait ; hold the 
lantern, and I will see whether the door is not one 
that slides up.” 

The door indeed seemed to be one of that kind. 
Placing their lantern on the floor, the two robbers 
united their energies, and after much labor succeed- 
ed in lifting the door high enough for them to 
creej) under. After they had passed through into 


THE END OF THE WICKED. 


201 


the next vault the door slowly sank into its former 
position without their noticing it. The marauders 
found themselves in a room the floor of which was 
inlaid with red bricks ; along the walls were sus- 
pended all sorts of weapons. 

Here is nothing of any value to us,” said the 
cloth-weaver. 

“ There is for me,” said the Fleming, taking 
down a long dagger and placing it upon his per- 
son. This may be of some use.” 

Come, let us get out of this vault, Bardes, and 
see if we can find a door that will lead us to a hall 
or a staircase. We must get up stairs ; there is where 
the money is. Here is nothing but old stuff” 

A door easily opened was indeed found ; it led to 
a vault even larger than the one the men were in. 
They entered, but stepped back much more quickly 
than they had gone in ; for, to their terror, they 
perceived that it contained several kegs of gun- 
powder, and some of the loose powder was scat- 
tered in heaps on the floor. 

Keep back your lantern, Bardes,” quickly 
spoke Herman, ‘^for one spark, and we — ■ But 
hark ! what do I hear ?” 

Both listened with bated breath, and soon they 
distinctly heard footsteps as of one who was great- 
ly hurried. 

That must be the steward,” whispered Geert 
Herman ; we have been too long.” 


202 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


“ If it is he/^ said Bardes, likewise speaking in 
low tones, our chance is gone. I had confident 
expectations that Hugh would keep him a good 
long time with his nonsense about St. Luke’s, es- 
pecially since that clerical gentleman came there, 
into the bargain. But hark ! what can he be doing ? 
He seems to be emptying his money-chest. It is a 
pity we too could not be there.” 

The person up stairs, whoever he was, seemed to 
be determined to make a tremendous noise. He 
knocked tables and chairs over on the floor, ran 
like a wild beast around the room, rattled the locks, 
opened chests, threw the money-bags upon the floor, 
so that copper aud silver coins rolled in every 
direction, aud screamed at such a fearful rate that 
the two thieves looked at each other in astonish- 
ment, not knowing what could be the meaning of 
it. And how could they know ? They knew noth- 
ing of the teachings of Scripture concerning the 
wicked. They could not know that the steward of 
Wyngaerden House, whose heart was polluted by a 
thousand sins and weighed down by avarice and 
murder, and who had refused to place himself be- 
fore God a confessed sinner beseeching his pardon, 
was now being goaded to madness by the poignant 
pricking of that same truth of God which might 
yet have saved him if he had heeded it in the morn- 
ing. The awful remorse of au awakened conscience 
had seized upon him. He sought rest, and found 


THE END OF THE WICKED. 


203 


it not because he sought it not in the way that 
Hugh had done. At present, driven by the tor- 
ments of remorse, and thinking he saw on all 
sides of him the form of the man whom he had 
murdered from love of gain, he dashed restlessly 
from place to place, although the lust after his 
goods and his money still remained with him. 
Therefore he rooted like a swine among his gath- 
ered treasures and filled his pockets full of money, 
only to cast it wildly away from him in the next 
instant when overcome by the fearful fancies of his 
disordered imagination. Suddenly he hurled him- 
self from the room and, to the horror of the two • 
robbers, came down into the hallway. His steps 
approached the vault in which they were. What 
should they do? 

Blow out the light, Bardes,” cried Geert Her- 
man. Quick ! he must not see us.^^ 

The Fleming did as bidden ; the thieves were 
.now in total darkness, and crept into a distant 
corner. Like a madman pursued by dogs the 
steward dashed down the steps. Another moment, 
and he was in the stone cell. He lifted up the 
sliding door and appeared, lamp in hand, in the 
apartment where the thieves lay crouching in a 
corner. How revolting was his aspect ! His eyes 
were starting from their sockets and the terrors of 
hell distorted his features. 

Here it is !” he shrieked, standing in the centre 


204 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


of the cell. This is the spot — the grave ! Here 
he is ! St. Luke’s ! St. Luke’s !” 

The madman threw himself upon the red-brick 
floor, removed several of the bricks and with his 
hands began to dig in the earth beneath. Sud- 
denly he stopped ; he looked up as if he thought 
he had heard a noise. 

What is that ?” he cried, springing to his feet. 

Who is coming ? Is it the officer of the latv to 
convict and sentence me — Mr, Gael ? No ; I will 
have nothing to do with you. I fear you ; I shall 
flee from you and go where you cannot pursue me. 

. I will— ” 

Taking the lamp in his hand, the steward dashed 
into the next vault, the door to which had been left 
open by the highwaymen. The cloth-weaver and 
the Fleming uttered a loud scream ; they saw the 
frenzied man enter the powder-magazine with the 
burning lamp. They sprang upon him to detain 
him and shrieked in terror and despair. The 
steward looked behind him, and, seeing the two 
forms starting from a corner and thinking they 
were officers of the law, he dashed still farther 
into the adjoining vault, threw the lamp from him 
into the midst of the gunpowder, and — A flame 
leaped up, followed by a loud hissing, a creaking 
of beams, a shaking of the ground as by an earth- 
quake, accompanied by deafening thunder. In that 
same instant the miscreants observed the steward 


THE END OF THE WICKED. 


205 


throw himself into the flames; they turned to 
escape, but the foundations of the house trembled, 
the vaults burst asunder, the walls tottered on their 
bases, and with the rapidity of thought Wyngaer- 
den House, with all that lived and breathed within 
it, flew into the air. 


CHAPTER XX. 


FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. 


W E take the privilege of the story-teller and 
advance our time by as much as nine years. 
This brings us to the year 1607, and may entitle 
us, before we proceed with the narrative of their 
individual histories, to bring in a few words regard- 
ing the history of Church and State in the country 
w'herewith the fortunes of our friends were identi- 
fied. 

The republic of the Seven United Netherland 
Provinces of the North continued to prosper. 
Prosperity was theirs in a political as well as in 
a commercial sense. Several of the islands of the 
East Indies had been wrested from the Spaniards 
and the Portuguese, and a Dutch colonial empire 
began there to arise. The fact of independence, 
meantime, became daily more established. The 
prince of Orange, Maurice, the son of William 
the Silent, who had been made captain-general of 
the armies of the republic, had now the reputation 
of being the first general of his age ; no city or 
citadel could resist the rapidity, force and irresist- 
206 


FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. 


207 


ible skill of his sieges. In the year 1600 the 
important and hard-fought battle of Nieuwport, 
in West Flanders — one of the obedient provinces 
of the South — had proved by the brilliant success 
on the side of the republic that Maurice was 
equally capable of sustaining his reputation in 
the field. The significant event that was con- 
summated in 1609 was already being agitated 
and overtures entered upon to bring it about. 
This was the twelve years^ truce — a cessation of 
hostilities between Spain and the Dutch republic, 
which the former eagerly desired in order to re- 
pair her energies wasted in an unsuccessful conflict 
of forty-one years with her revolted provinces. 

In Church affairs events of great importance 
were also brewing. The sad controversies and 
the sadder divisions which led to the memorable 
and celebrated Synod of Dort, in the year 1618, 
had been going on for some years. In the year 
1603 the brilliant scholar and learned theologian 
Arminius — whose acquaintance we made long ago 
in Utrecht as a fellow-student of Walter Harmsen 
— was called from his pastorate in Amsterdam to 
be professor of theology in the University of Ley- 
den. Before this he had taken exception to some 
of the doctrines of John Calvin, and now he 
boldly enunciated his difference of opinion. The 
defence of Calvinism was taken up by theologians 
who adhered to the great Genevan Reformer’s 


208 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


peculiar views. Public discussions were held, 
bearing fruit in nothing but wider separation of 
hearts. But long before the controversy between 
Calvinism and the Arminianism that bore his name 
had reached its height Arminius had passed away, 
dying of a fever in October, 1609, when but 
forty-nine years of age. He was thus professor at 
Leyden at the time we resume our narrative. 

While freedom in civil matters and a bold 
independence were more and more becoming es- 
tablished in the northern provinces, and while 
religious controversy, however deplorable in itself, 
yet indicated freedom and independence in matters 
of faith and opinion, a difference wide as the poles 
in all these particulars was observable between the 
southern Netherlands and those constituting the 
republic. The battle of Nieuwport was the result 
of a campaign organized rather unadvisedly, but 
with the intention of striking a blow that would 
restore liberty to the southern provinces. The 
battle, though itself a success, accomplished noth- 
ing toward the end in view, for the spirit of lib- 
erty seems to have been utterly crushed out of the 
southern people. His victory merely gave Maurice 
an opportunity to withdraw from the country with 
honor, and such an experiment was not afterward 
repeated. Spain continued its hold upon these 
its possessions ; by the Treaty of Utrecht, in the 
year 1713, they were transferred like so much 


FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. 


209 


personal property to Austria, and not till 1830 did 
these provinces become an independent country as 
the kingdom of Belgium. 

Meanwhile, these provinces remained also with- 
in the pale of the papal Church. In the republic 
there was freedom of woi-ship for all — Catholics as 
well as others ; in the Spanish Netherlands, on the 
contrary, even at the time to which we have now 
brought our story, no adherent of the Reformation 
was tolerated. The Inquisition was still in force ; 
the Jesuits, who had attained great power and 
influence in Church and in State, persecuted to the 
death every heretic they could get within their reach. 

On a Sunday afternoon in the month of July, 
1607, two men might have been seen leaving the 
city of Leyden, taking the road to the village of 
Voorschoten. The sun poured his burning rays 
upon them as they walked, and it was fortunate 
for them that at this time fashion had not as yet 
invented black silk hats, which, however elegant 
and dignified in their appearance, are nevertheless 
admirably calculated to aggravate the discomfort 
of the sun’s heat. Both men wore low felt hats 
with drooping brims, somewhat in the shape of 
inverted wash-basins. The stiff*, many-pleated, 
upright collar of an earlier date had given place to 
a broad flat collar lying upon the shoulders, taper- 
ing to two points in front and terminating in long 
14 


210 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


tassels. This later fashion permitted one to have 
the neck and throat open and free to the access of 
the air. A velvet vest closed up to the throat with 
black shining buttons, the graceful cloak hung 
loosely over the left arm, the ample breeches fas- 
tened at the knees with silver clasps and the black 
silk stockings which lost themselves in low shoes, 
— these will give the reader some idea of the dress 
of these two men. There may have been some 
difference in the cut or the quality of the cloth 
they wore, but the general costume was otherwise 
much the same. But a great difference was at 
once apparent between the two if we note what 
their countenances indicated. The one who allows 
his hand to rest affectionately upon the shoulder 
of his companion is a person of some forty-eight 
years ; his bearing is manly and dignified, yet his 
eye bespeaks an extraordinary amiability, and the 
smile now playing about his mouth is so winning 
that one is constrained to love him even on first 
acquaintance. The young man at his side is 
evidently much his junior, and can scarcely count 
eighteen years. His face, somewhat dark of hue, 
as if burned by the sun, has an expression of 
seriousness or anxiety ; and had not his eye be- 
trayed a meek and lovable nature, one would have 
been inclined to believe this youth to be somewhat 
misanthropic, or, at least, one of an unhappy dis- 
position. This was not by any means the case, 


FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. 


211 


however. True, he did not possess the cheerfulness 
and the openness of his older friend, but one could 
readily discover that there beat an honest and 
sincere heart within him. He was, in fact, just 
that which a youth of his age should be — modest, 
gentle and more or less bashful. 

I rejoice greatly, Antoine,” began the elder of 
the two pedestrians when they had crossed the 
bridge over the Rhine, ‘Hhat we can be together 
to-day. I had never expected to meet you in Ley- 
den. How long have you been here ?” 

About four weeks, Mr. Harmsen.” 

And why did not you announce your arrival 
earlier? You felt entirely certain, did you not, 
that you would meet with a cordial welcome from 
me ?” 

Certainly, Mr. Harmsen,” replied the youth, 
pressing his friend^s hand : I was most firmly 
convinced of that ; but I deemed it better to wait 
quietly till you had returned. On the very day 
that I arrived in Leyden you had set out upon 
your journey, and in order to attract as little 
attention as possible and not to interfere with 
your plans I waited upon Mr. John Paedts Jacobson, 
the printer about whom you had told me last year 
at Monne, and he was willing to employ me at once 
in his shop.” 

I know it — I know it, Antoine,” said his friend, 
whom we have recognized to be Mr. Harmseu ; 


212 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Mr. John Paedts has told me all. I am only 
sorry that you had to spend so much time here 
without me, but I had promised my friends in 
Utrecht to pass a few weeks in their midst to 
study God^s word together and to go about with the 
gospel trumpet at my lips, hoping that many an ear 
might be opened to hear the invitation of the heav- 
enly Voice. You may imagine how greatly sur- 
prised I was when Paedts mentioned your name. 
I at first thought that he had made a mistake’ ; but 
when he plainly told me that Antoine Moreau of 
Monne, in Flanders, was in town and in his employ, 
my delight knew no bounds, and to this you must 
ascribe my calling upon you so unexpectedly in 
your lodging this morning. But as yet you have 
told me nothing of your mother. How is she ? 
Has she too learned to love the Lord Jesus ? and is 
it with her consent that you came hither ?” 

At the hearing of these concluding words there 
came over the countenance of the youth a shadow 
as when one receives some sorrowful tidings; it 
followed in sad contrast upon the happy smile that 
played about his lips when Mr. Harmsen so frankly 
revealed his delight at meeting him. He grasped 
his friend’s hand and said. 

Ah, Mr. Harmsen, you cannot know how much 
I suffer on my dear mother’s account. Her image 
is continually before me. Whenever I cast myself, 
wearied after my day’s work, upon my bed, I see 


FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. 


213 


her as it were standing before me and weeping be- 
. cause I have left her.” 

‘‘How? left her? Without her consent?” 

“ Yes, and no. But let us seek a resting-place 
in the shade of yonder bushes, and I will tell you 
all.” 

The pedestrians directed their steps to the point 
indicated, but did not observe that on the side of 
the road some one stealthily followed them and 
hid himself in the bushes close by the place where 
Harmsen and Moreau had seated themselves. 

“Do you remember, Mr. Harmsen,” began An- 
toine, “ the day I first met you ?” 

“ Yes, very well. I was returning from a jour- 
ney to France. With much difficulty and after 
great peril I had reached Courtray, and, as I 
did not deem myself safe in tliat city, I went to 
Monne.” 

“ The village where I lived,” said the youth, 
sadly. “Oh, Mr. Harmsen,” he continued as a 
sigh escaped him, “ upon the whole earth there is 
no place more lovely to me — not only because my 
mother lives there, but also because it was there 
that I first learned the truth that Jesus is my Sav- 
iour. Although it is more than a year ago, I re- 
member as well as if it had happened yesterday the 
very spot near our little village church where first 
I met you. I was at that time very much troubled 
in mind.” 


214 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


^^True. You had just had a conversation with 
your priest, Father Beuediclus, I believe, and you- 
told me what had passed between you.’’ 

At the mention of the priest’s name the person 
who had concealed himself behind the bushes lifted 
his head among the leaves and strained every nerve 
to listen. Before we follow this rather unworthy 
example — which we will do, however, later on — 
we must tell our readers what Walter Harmsen 
already knew and they do not know. 

Who, then, is this young man, Antoine Mo- 
reau ? He is an old friend under a new name. 
The name by which we knew him before was not 
his real one. Walburgius Steenwyk ” did well 
enough while he was still the foundling and the 
soldier’s ward ; but when he was recovered by 
his mother, that rather inharmonious designation 
became su pel’ll uous. 

Antoine Moreau, then, went back with his moth- 
er, Madame Moreau, to his home, in Flanders, 
after a few days spent among the friends who 
had been so kind to him. We have learned from 
words dropped by his father at his violent death, 
and from the conversation of his mother with the 
Lady Jacoba in the wagon, that his parents were 
indeed, as Dame Ruikmans had suspected, ad- 
herents of the Romish faith. The mother had 
been open to conviction while in contact with the 
Baroness van Vlooswyk, but, returned to her own 


FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. 


215 


couDtry, she soon yielded to the influences of her 
surroundings, and former impressions departed from 
her. She had a daughter some three years older 
than Antoine who had been left in Flanders with 
relatives while the officer took his wife and younger 
child to the scene of war in the North. As this 
daughter grew into womanhood she became im- 
bued with a narrow and zealous religious spirit 
which made her an intolerant devotee to the Catholic 
faith and filled her with implacable hatred toward 
those who departed from the Romish Church. By 
her forceful mind she acquired a great influence 
over her mother and hopelessly drove from her 
mother’s mind all former tolerance of heretic doc- 
trines. With these two to guide his education, the 
little Antoine during his most impressionable years 
was thoroughly purged from any of the lingering ef- 
fects of Dame Ruikmans’s not very amiable train- 
ing in the faith of Calvin. When, therefore, he 
had attained the age of sixteen or seventeen, he was 
as staunch a Catholic as were any of his contempora- 
ries who had never lived in a Protestant country 
nor been subjected to Reformed baptism ; but the 
Lord had set his mark upon him, and would have 
him for his own. 

When Antoine was seventeen years old, he came 
across certain pages of a volume that had been torn 
to pieces with the evident design of burning it. 
Among other things, it was here announced that 


216 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


Jesus Christ was the only Mediator between God 
and man, that his precious blood cleansed from 
all sin, and that, therefore, there was nothing to be 
done but to believe in Jesus ; so that fasts, vigils, 
prayers, penances, were all foreign to the true way 
of salvation. These declarations did not seem en- 
tirely new to Antoine ; they awakened in his mem- 
ory a chord which was sufficient to set him think- 
ing very seriously. His priest. Father Benedictus, 
with whom he was pursuing certain studies and 
who wished to educate him for the Church, had 
never taught him any such doctrine, but he sup- 
)X)sed that the Father might perhaps teach them to 
him when he should be farther advanced. Antoine 
accordingly took the paj)ers to the priest and asked 
him what he was to think of their contents. The ef- 
fect upon the priest was quite startling to Antoine. 
He snatched the papers out of the boy’s hands, tore 
them to pieces with a countenance livid with wrath, 
and threw them into the fire, saying that Apollyon, 
the chief of the devils, had caused these papers to 
fall into Antoine’s hands. To purify him from 
their infection he was commanded to do penance 
by walking about the church three times a day for a 
week with a consecrated taper, at the same time call- 
ing upon St. Joseph, in the hope that this saint 
would deliver him from all contamination with 
heretic-s and their writings. He did faithfully all 
that Father Benedictus appointed, but from that 


FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. 


217 


moment peace forsook his soul. He could not get 
his thoughts away from what he had read ; deeply 
as he pondered, pray as he would to Mary, Joseph 
and other saints, the unrest of his soul remained the 
same. The only relief he found was in repeating to 
himself as nearly as he could remember the words 
which had been read — that faith in the work and the 
merits of Christ is the sole condition of salvation. 

Antoine had not shown those papers to either his 
sister or his mother, but on a certain day when he 
felt particularly anxious and oppressed in heart 
he went to his mother’s room. Fortunately, he 
found her alone. Perhaps she could read in his 
face what secret misery he was enduring, for, tak- 
ing him by tlie hand, she drew him toward her, 
embraced him and, wiping the tears from his cheeks, 
asked him the cause of his trouble. He told her that 
he was seeking rest for his soul and could find it 
nowhere. 

^^Why,” she said, ^‘pray to our holy mother 
Mary ; she is the queen of heaven and will assur- 
edly give you rest.” 

Antoine told his mother, with tears and broken 
voice, that he had done so for months, but in vain. 
It seemed as if the holy Mary could not help him, 
and yet he must get help, for otherwise his life was 
insupportable. His mother, patient and kind as she 
was, then counseled him to speak to Father Bene- 
dictus about this matter, as perchance through his 


218 


THE SOLDIER^S WARD. 


iDtercession he should obtain forgiveness of sins, 
and therefore, also, peace. The boy shook his 
head when she spoke thus, and then told her 
about the papers he had found, telling her some 
of the sentiments therein expressed. Scarcely 
had he done so when his mother arose and re- 
garded him witli a look of terror such as he had 
never before seen upon her face. The poor lady 
feared for the terrible consequences of reading 
such documents. When his sister learned the cir- 
cumstances, life became quite unendurable, for she 
chose to consider it a willful turning to heretical 
views. 

It was at this juncture that Walter Harmsen had 
found Antoine. As we learned from his words a 
moment ago, he was returning from a visit to Ja- 
coba in France. Reaching Courtray, he dared not 
stay in the city, but, knowing that Madame Moreau 
resided in the village of Monne, not far from that 
city, he repaired thither. As the evening was fall- 
ing Antoine had gone to the churchyard. He there 
fell prostrate and prayed God to grant him the as- 
surance of his grace, to leave him no longer in un- 
certainty and doubt ; he besought him to send him 
some one with whom he might converse upon the 
state of his mind. When somewhat quieted by this 
exercise of prayer he rose, and as he was leaving the 
churchyard he saw standing beneath one of the 
willows a man whom he recognized even in the 


FROM DARKNESS TO LIGHT. 


219 


failing light. It was Walter Harmsen. He made 
himself known to this friend of his boyhood^s pro- 
tector, to the no little gratification of Walter. We 
need not say that he had found the friend in need, 
that after a few fervent words of instruction and of 
prayer the faith of Antoine was confirmed and his 
belief in the evangelical views of salvation estab- 
lished. 

The two communed together the greater part 
of the night ; for when Walter Harmsen learned 
the state of mind of Antoine’s mother and sister 
and the watchfulness of Father Benedictus, he 
judged it safe neither for Antoine nor for himself 
to make known his presence. 

As Walter and Antoine seated themselves in the 
shade on the side of the road Walter said. 

You have good cause to remember the events 
of those days ; it was a critical period in your life. 
But now tell me what happened to you after I 
separated from you, and what is the reason you 
left your mother and came to Leyden.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

ESCAPED FROM THE INQUISITION, 

“ T WILL endeavor to do so,” said the youth ; 

-L ^^and may the Lord give me strength to 
endure the pain it will cause me to recall that 
sorrowful past ! I will not need to remind you 
of our conversation, continued through nearly that 
entire night ; every word you spoke to me concern- 
ing Jesus the Saviour was to me as a draught of 
W’ater to a thirsty soul. The next day we could 
not meet because we had to avoid the suspicious 
espionage of Father Benedictus, my sister and — 
my own mother ! Ah ! what sort of religion can 
that be which teaches a mother to hate her child ?” 

Antoine Moreau was forced to cease speaking 
for a few moments, and while Harmsen sought to 
cheer him with a timely word the man who was 
concealed in the bushes took advantage of the 
opportunity to approach still nearer. 

^^Two nights in succession we were enabled to 
converse together undisturbed. On the third, after 
you had left, I went to the same spot, and there, 
alone with God, I gave myself wholly to Jesus. 

220 


ESCAPED FROM THE INQUISITION. 221 

Oh, no one but a child of God can understand the 
feeling of joy which from that moment took 
possession of me. I was as a slave whose chains 
are broken and who suddenly enjoys full freedom. 

“This change in my condition could not long 
be concealed from my mother. Fortunately, the 
Lord ordered it that I must go on some particular 
business to Antwerp, and thus during a few months 
I was relieved of the presence of Father Bene- 
dictus. But I had scarcely returned home when 
my sister’s suspicious were awakened anew. While 
I was asleep she had found the Confession of the 
Reformed Church in some corner where I had 
concealed it. She showed it triumphantly to my 
mother, accused me of heresy, declared she would 
have nothing more to do with me, and to such a 
degree stirred up mother against me that I could 
use no reason with her. Still, I succeeded in tell- 
ing her what had taken place in my soul and how 
the Lord Jesus Christ had granted me his peace. 

“ If I had had strife in my heart before, my moth- 
er now began to have her share of it, although it was 
of an entirely different character. She saw the fear- 
ful danger to which I had exposed myself, and 
suspected aright that if Father Benedictus knew 
all he would accuse me before the Inquisition and I 
would undoubtedly be thrown into prison and put 
to death. I was her only son, and she loved me 
tenderly. The conflict between her love for me 


222 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


and what she supposed to be her duty toward the 
Roman Catholic Church must have been very 
painful. At least, she grew paler day by day ; 
traces of mental sorrow were visible upon her 
countenance, and often did I hear her sigh upon 
her bed at night. She would frequently wring her 
hands as she sought to dissuade my sister from ful- 
filling her repeated threats to accuse me to Father 
Benedictus.’^ 

The youth was silent for a few moments, and 
gave way to his feelings. 

Matters could not long remain in this state,’’ 
he continued ; “ an end miist come to all these 
annoyances, this conflict, these threats and perse- 
cutions of my sister, which went on day and night 
without ceasing. Upon a certain day, having con- 
ceived some special provocation on account of my 
mother’s love for me, furious because she still 
hesitated to thrust the heretic from her house 
and home, my sister went to Father Benedictus, 
told him all and put into his hands the little book 
which she had stolen from me. Father Benedictus 
had long been in search of some excuse to get pos- 
session of my person, and his mind was at once 
made up. He laid accusation against me before 
the vicar-general of the Jesuits, and scarce twenty- 
four hours after the accusation a company of sixty 
soldiers appeared in Monne with orders to seize me 
and conduct me bound to the Inquisition prison. 


ESCAPED FROM THE INQUISITION. 223 


In this critical moment, however, mother’s love 
triumphed over every scruple. No sooner had my 
sister entered the house, saying with diabolical joy 
upon her face that now the heretic would be taught 
something besides Reformed lies, than mother 
uttered a terrible cry, drew me with the swift- 
ness of thought to her sleeping-room, and ere my sis- 
ter was aware of what she was doing provided me 
with a bag full of money, motioned to me to leap 
from her window, and without speaking a word 
pointed to a piece of woods opposite. I pressed a 
kiss upon her cold forehead, leaped to the ground 
without accident, and escaped my persecutors. But 
my poor mother ! Oh, I am assured that — ” 

The youth hid his face in his hands and could 
proceed no farther. 

“ Poor woman !” said Mr. Harmsen. How sad 
it is that she is so blinded by superstition ! But a 
mother who can love you as she does may not be 
inaccessible to your persuasion of her to the truth 
of salvation.” 

‘‘Oh, I wish to believe so,” replied Antoine, 
eagerly; “gladly would I sacrifice my life if I 
could but be sure of effecting her salvation. But 
you wish to know how I came here. I went direct- 
ly to Holland, but you may imagine I did not reach 
it without incurring dangers. The Lord was with 
me, however, and about four weeks ago I reached 
Ijeyden in safety. Perhaps you do not remember 


224 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


that in the course of our conversations during those 
never-to-be-forgotten nights we were together you 
had mentioned the name of John Paedts, bookseller 
at Leyden 

Oh yes ; I recollect it veiy well, for I told you 
that he was one of my dearest friends and that I 
had met him at the house of my distinguished friend 
Philip of Marnix. As you know now, he last year 
published a fine edition of the Bible/’* 

Yes, I know,” said Antoine, ^^and I have both 
volumes of it. I carry them always about with 
me, and have often been refreshed by reading 
them.” 

I am rejoiced to hear it. But tell me : have 
you not learned to like Mr. John Paedts?” 

Yes ; you did not exaggerate his good qualities. 
He received me very cordially and expressed much 
sympathy with me. He thanked the Lord that I 

* I liave in my possession a Bible witli the following inscribed 
upon the title-page ; “ Biblia : That is, all the Holy Script- 

ures, thoroughly and faithfully translated into Dutch. With 
explanation of obscure words, phrases and sayings, and diverse 
readings which are found in other excellent translations, and 
are here placed in the margin. Also, with full references to sim- 
ilar or contrasted passages, indicated with the greatest relia- 
bility by chapter and verse (as every chapter is subdivided 
after the manner of the Hebrew). At Leyden, John Paedts 
Jacobson and John Bouwenson. Anno M.D.XCIX.” This 
Bible was published in two volumes printed in very small 
type and of convenient size to carry in the pocket. — Author’s 
Note. 


ESCAPED FROM THE INQUISITION. 225 

had escaped so great a peril, for without doubt I 
should have been condemned by the Inquisition, 
and probably my sister, like the peasant at the 
burning of John Huss, would have aided in the 
preparations for my torture, under the supposition 
that thereby she was rendering a signal service to 
God. Poor sister 

You may well say ‘ Poor sister !’ observed 
Mr. Harmseu. Ah ! there have been, and are, 
so many who think to do God a service by persecut- 
ing to the death those who are his people ! Truly, 
it is sad. But it is God’s way to bring his children 
through many tribulations into the kingdom. We 
may comfort ourselves with this reflection, being well 
assured that in the end a crown of rejoicing awaits 
us, and that upon the soil that will hold our mortal 
remains the people of these Netherlands shall at 
one time serve the Lord Jesus Christ in perfect 
freedom. But tell me, now : what are your inten- 
tions or prospects for the future? You are em- 
ployed by Mr. John Paedts?” 

“ Yes. Almost as soon as I made myself known 
to him Mr. Paedts took me into his employ, and, 
although at first I was somewhat awkward at the 
trade, I get along very well now. But as to my 
intentions or prospects I can say nothing ; I must 
let myself be guided by circumstances.” 

And do you think you are safe here in Ley- 
den ?” asked Harmsen. Are you sure that Fa- 

15 


226 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


ther Benedictus and the Jesuits will not follow you 
as far as this and seek to take you by force or guile ? 
You cannot trust the Jesuits. They resemble Satan, 
who at times appears like an angel of light. I be- 
lieve that there are still in this city a number of 
Jesuits and secret spies of Spain and the Inquisi- 
tion who lie in wait to entrap the innocent.” 

At these words the person hidden in the bushes 
lifted his head, but let no word escape him. 

That is very likely,” replied Antoine Moreau, 
although as yet I have met no one who sought to 
do me any harm. On the contrary, I enjoy the 
goodness of the Lord in abundant measure, and I 
would be quite happy could I once in a while see 
my mother. Ah ! who knows how greatly she is suf- 
fering on my account ? Could I but tell her how 
blessed I am in the Master’s service, with what joy 
I await his coming, perhaps she too would take up 
her cross and follow him. I do not think I shall 
be very long able to endure separation from her. 
Oh, pray the Lord with me that I may speedily 
hear some news of her, and that circumstances may 
so conspire that I shall see her.” 

“ Trust in the Lord, dear Antoine, but be care- 
ful and do not anticipate his designs nor force cir- 
cumstances according to your own will rather than 
await his. Be as prudent as you can. I feel as if 
some danger were threatening you. But should it 
ever happen — which the Lord prevent ! — that your 


ESCAPED FROM THE INQUISITION. 227 


enemies get you within their reach, be assured that 
you will find in me a brother and a friend who will 
do all he can for you/^ 

The youth took both of Harmsen’s hands and, 
lifting them reverently to his lips, covered them 
with kisses. He felt how infinitely much, under 
God, he owed to Harmsen, and unspeakable grat- 
itude and love beamed from his eyes as he said, 
I know it — I know it ; and should it be that 
your presentiment prove correct, I hope that you 
will find me submissive to the will of the Lord.” 

‘^Do you like your lodgings?” continued Harm- 
sen, after a pause. 

“Yes; I am with a widow whose name is Van 
Dyck. She is a godly woman, but almost always 
ill. Her husband was a weaver; he died of con- 
sumption about a year ago. But must we not 
proceed with our walk? Methinks your friends 
will be expecting you. I am longing to be in the 
midst of the brethren. What time shall we get 
to Voorschoten?” 

“The appointment was at five o’clock, at the 
farm of Dirk Brocks, where we will also meet the 
wagon maker Ledeganck, of Wassenaar. Perhaps 
we shall find there some friends from The Hague 
— certainly, Dame Bulk mans. How glad she will 
be to meet you there ! You remember that I asked 
you if you had heard of or met her husband, who 
is employed in the bishop’s prison at Tournay.” 


228 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Yes. I am sorry I did not know of it before, 
for I always remember with pleasure the days he 
acted as my foster-father.^^ 

Yes, and I too like him very much, and with 
judicious management he would undoubtedly have 
come to the knowledge of the truth. He was, in 
fact, not far from the kingdom of God, but his 
wife was too rigidly orthodox ; her severity dis- 
couraged Joris. Of a sudden he was gone, and 
now, alas ! he is in the midst of Romish surround- 
ings. Yet I cannot believe that he is quite lost to 
the Reformed Church, and I think if I could have 
a word with him he might be reclaimed. We can- 
not force sinners to accept Jesus ; slowly, patiently, 
prayerfully and with the exercise of much self-de- 
nial must this be done. But now we must go on.’’ 

Walter Harm sen and Antoine Moreau then arose 
and continued on their way to Voorschoten, the 
steeple of wdiose church they could already dis- 
cern in the distance. 

The friends had proceeded about two hundred 
paces, when the person who had hid himself in 
their vicinity left his place of concealment in the 
bushes, looked after them through the leaves and 
brandies as far as he could see them, and then as 
fast as his feet could carry him ran back to Leyden. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE JESUIT AND HTS TOOLS. 

rpHE man whom we saw leaving the bushes by 
J- the roadside went on toward the city, and on the 
way ran with seeming heedlessness against a person 
who was complacently observing the leaves of a 
certain tree and occasionally knocking off a cater- 
pillar. He was apparently so absorbed in this 
occupation that the rest of the world seemed as 
nothing to him, but one accustomed to read coun- 
tenances could have seen that this man cared just 
as little for the beauty of the foliage as for the 
fate of the furry caterpillars which he so mercilessly 
crushed under his foot. His body stood there near 
the tree and its leafy adornment, but his mind was 
busy with quite other matters. From time to 
time he cast stealthy but quick and penetrating 
glances along the road to Voorschoten, while he 
muttered to himself : 

If only Willebrordus does not spoil things by 
his imprudence ! He is sly enough and well cal- 
culated to aid us in our undertaking, but he is apt 
to upset us all by his eagerness to do his best. 

229 


230 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


But see ! there is some one coming. Can it be he ? 
Probably, for I cannot mistake his swaggering gait. 
But I must act as if I did not notice him. He 
knows I am to wait for him here, and our un- 
derstanding is that if he has gained any valuable 
information he shall run up against me as if by 
accident. I must not awaken suspicion, and must 
observe the precept of our superior, Philip Derot : 
‘Never let others know just what you are doing 
when the interest of the Church is involved.’ ” 

The man had scarce concluded these reflections 
when the person whom we saw concealed behind 
the bushes ran up against him with such force 
that the killer of caterpillars was thrown against 
the trunk of the tree under which he had been 
standing and lacked but little of being knocked 
down. 

“ Softly, softly, my friend !” he said, with affected 
anger, when he perceived that several persons had 
stopped and were laughing at the apparent stupid- 
ity of the new-corner. “ You had better keep your 
eyes open and at the same time he continued in 
a whisper that could be lieard only by his assailant : 
“ All right ! Go on to the house, and I will follow 
by another way.” 

Tlie man pretended to offer an excuse and ran on 
a trot through the crowd, which jeered after him as 
he went, while the lover of trees slowly walked off* 
in an opposite direction. 


THE JESUIT AND HIS TOOLS. 


231 


It will be expedient that we- first learn something 
more particular about these two persons before we 
go to the house to which both wended their foot- 
steps. 

The man whom we found engaged in killing cater- 
pillars counted about forty years of age, and was, ac- 
cordingly, in the full vigor of his days. If we are 
to judge of the full vigor of one’s days, however, by 
a corpulent body, a double chin, rounded cheeks and 
hands like pincushions, this man could not be said 
to have arrived at this stage, for he was as lean as 
a post. His countenance seemed like that of one 
who was dying of a rapid consumption, being 
marked by the sallowuess of its skin, drawn tight- 
ly over the prominent cheek-bones and the jaws. 
The nose was long and beaklike; the mouth, wide 
with very thin lips ; the chin, almost square and 
projecting over the meagre neck like a precipice 
over a gaping abyss ; the ears were conspicuously 
large and hung like a pair of flesh-colored flaps at 
the side of the head ; the eyes, on the contrary, were 
small, but lively in expression. The dress was that 
of a simple burgher — not at all remarkable, and 
certainly not of a character to announce that this 
man was Florentius Digo, one of the most astute 
men that ever belonged to the society of Jesuits. 

The man who had been playing eavesdropper 
was mucli younger; he might have been about 
twenty-two years of age. The first impression 


232 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD, 


which his coiintenaDce made upon the careful ob- 
server was not apt to be a favorable one. There 
was such a mingling of cunning with wdiat seemed 
even stupid or simple that one was led to the con- 
clusion that the man was double-faced. He had 
never known a father or mother, and seemed not to 
have a relative belonging to him. He followed to 
some extent the trade of cloth-weaver, like so many 
of the laboring classes in Leyden, but as he had lit- 
tle relish for a sedenkiry life and a fixed occupation, 
and as the factory-hands made much sport of him on 
account of his so-called innocence, he worked very 
seldom at his trade, but preferred to tramp it 
through the country much like a dog that has lost 
its way and goes sniffing along the streets or the 
roads trying to find his home or to pick up food 
as he goes. And even as a hungry cur generally 
manages to pick up enough to keep him alive, so it 
happened with Willebrordus Groothurrelbrink, in 
which name he rejoiced. The chief subject of sport 
for his companions in factories was a defect of 
speech of Brordus Groot, as people usually called 
him. He could not easily pronounce the letter r, 
but often made of it a sound something like a w. 
For instance, if i-equired to tell his name in full, he 
would say that it was Willebwoddus Gwoothuwwel- 
bwink. It may be imagined what a fruitful source 
of s}X)rt this was for the weaver’s journeymen and 
how often they found occasion to make him tell his 


THE JESUIT AND HIS TOOLS. 


233 


full name, of which he was rather proud, always in- 
wardly resenting the briefer and more convenient 
form which people took the liberty to use. 

Brordus Groot, being much at large and ready 
for any kind of employment, was seldom out of 
a job. Not far from the alley where he found a 
lodging of some sort a stranger had recently come 
to occupy rooms in the house of an apothecary. 
This person, though but plainly dressed, seemed to 
have a long purse. He had need of some one to 
brush his clothes and shoes, and Brordus was exact- 
ly his man. From shoeblack he rose to the rank 
of messenger, and pretty soon he imagined he was 
quite well advanced in the confidence of the stran- 
ger, who was none other than Florentius Higo, but 
who, it need not be said, lefl Groot very far from 
understanding his real designs. 

Florentius Digo had rented the front rooms of a 
small house which belonged to a certain Melchior 
van Walle, who formerly kept an apothecary’s shop, 
but who, after he had dosed people until he was 
rich, had given up business and occupied a small 
back room in the same house. This Melchior did 
not enjoy the very best of reputations; there was 
even a suspicion abroad that he was in league with 
the Jesuits who were engaged in the conspiracy to 
assassinate Prince Maurice in 1598. Melchior van 
Walle had a perfect understanding with Florentius 
Digo, and, although they were never seen together in 


234 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


public, there could be no question that they were 
in frequent conference within the house, and that 
they planned much mischief together. 

As soon as Brordus had crossed the threshold 
of his master’s rooms he took up a coat and went 
down to the little court where he was accustomed to 
brush Digo’s clothes. Scarce had Melchior, whose 
window opened upon this little yard, perceived his 
presence there, than he raised the window and 
asked in the most insinuating tones, 

^^Well, Brordus, did you have good luck?” 

The one addressed — who was not at all partial to 
Melchior, because he was very miserly and never 
did him any favors — acted as if he had not heard 
him, aud brushed the collar of his master’s coat 
as if he would tear it to pieces. 

^^Well, Brordus,” Melchior repeated, ^^did you 
have any luck ?” 

You old miser !” growled Brordus between his 
teeth ; looking up, he spoke aloud : No, but even 
if I had, I would not tell you, because Mr. Flo- 
wentius has owdered me not to tell anything with- 
out his consent.” 

^^But why not, Willebrordus?” asked the land- 
lord, still in very friendly tones, and using the full 
name to please the other. ‘^Your master will 
surely not object to your telling me, for I am as 
much interested in the matter as he. Tell me, 
therefore, I beg of you, whether they went to 


THE JESUIT AND HIS TOOLS. 


235 


Voorschoten together and what time they intend 
to return/^ 

There was no reply. Brordus kept on brushing 
with all his might, and occasionally dropped his 
brush, so that he need not look his questioner in 
the face. 

And suppose I offer you a pot of beer and a 
roll of toasted bread ? Methinks such things 
would be to your taste after your walk.’^ 

^ A pot of beew and a woll of bwead ’ repeat- 
ed Brordus, with deliberation, looking askance at 
Melchior. ^^Whewe have you those things 

Here, inside,’^ replied the apothecary, pointing 
to his table. ^^Put your foot on that curbstone 
and see for yourself ; it is all ready for you if you 
choose to take it.^^ 

There will not be any too much of it, vewy 
likely,’’ said Brordus, taking his brush again after 
looking as desired, although the thirst after some 
beer was pretty strong; ^^you have doubtless 
dwank the most of it, and thought the dwegs are 
for the wricked.” 

You are always thinking evil, Brordie,” said 
Melchior, familiarly. Here ! take the can into 
your hands and judge for yourself whether I tell 
truth or not.” 

The whilom apothecary went to the table, took 
up a well-filled can and showed it to Brordus, 
whose obstinacy was quite overcome by the sight ; 


236 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


it was too tempting altogether. Looking eagerly 
at the can, he asked, 

Can I have the whole of it?^’ 

‘^Certainly, provided you tell me something that 
I did not know before.^’ 

Brordus considered a moment or two, and then 
told all that he had seen and heard upon the road 
to Voorschoteu ; after which, he put out his hands 
for the can of beer. 

Hold said Melchior, putting the cau be- 
hind him; ^^you cannot have it yet. You must 
first tell me something I did not know before.’^ 

^^And have I not told you everything?’’ in- 
quired Brordus. 

Yes, that mny be; but I knew all that be- 
fore.” 

Brordus looked as much astonished as if some one 
had told him that Prince Maurice had turned Cath- 
olic. How was it possible that Melchior could 
know anything of what took place scarcely an 
hour ago on the road to Voorschoten, when the 
apothecary had not been from home at all? 

You knew that before?” Brordus asked, half in 
wonder, half in anger. How can that be ?” 

I dreamed it all last night,” replied Melchior, 
dryly; for from the first he had had no idea of 
])arting with the beer. 

Brordus took a step or two backward. 

‘ Dreamed it’ !” he exclaimed. 


THE JESUIT AND HIS TOOLS. 


237 


Yes, dreamed it,” was the curt reply ; and the 
apothecary lowered the sash and went back to the 
table to finish his meal. 

Brordus was furious when he saw how he had 
been taken in. He clenched his fist and stam- 
mered, red with anger, 

“ Misewable misew ! Dwink your beew yourself ; 
I will not have a dwop of it. But nevew shall I 
tell you anything again.” 

Melchior van Walle pretended not to hear Groot, 
poured out a glass of beer and waited for Floren- 
tius Digo to make his appearance. Soon his steps 
were heard in the hall. A few moments later 
Brordus entered the Jesuit’s room and related to 
him what he had heard the two pedestrians say. 
Florentius gave his messenger some money for 
what he had done, with directions for another duty, 
and then dismissed him. 

When Brordus had left, a knock was heard upon 
the door, and after a summons to come in Melchior 
entered the room of his tenant. 

I did not deceive myself,” said the latter ; it 
is he. Father Benedictus gave me a very good 
description, and now that by means of Brordus 
I have arrived at a certainty I will devote a wax 
candle to Our Lady of Courtray in gratitude for 
having traced both him and that arch-heretic.” 

The question now is,” said Melchior, in a low 
tone, how shall we get him back to Monne ?” 


238 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Florentius looked at his landlord and read 
another query in his eyes : “ What shall I get for 

my aid 

“ Oh, that question is easily answered,” Digo re- 
plied. I have all the requisite measures at com- 
mand, and now that I know he is the pereon 
I want I have in my possession an infallible in- 
ducement to tempt him back. But I would glad- 
ly accomplish something more. According to in- 
formation received, as well from Father Benedictus 
as from my superior, the frieud of Antoine Moreau 
is the most dangerous heretic that lives. He has 
been the cause of Antoine’s forsaking the faith 
of our Church, and thus it would be very desirable 
if we could get him into our power also, and could 
make them visit Moune together.” 

‘^Thus you want to kill two birds with one 
stone?” remarked Melchior, rejoicing much in the 
prospect. 

Exactly ; that is the mind of the superior express- 
ed iu my commission. I will read the letter to you.” 
He drew from one of his pockets a small key and 
opened a little closet. After examining a few papers 
he found a piece of parchment, and, running his 
eyes over its contents, he said, ^‘Yes, this is the 
commission ; listen as I read ;” and, going to the win- 
dow, he read as follows : ^ Ad major em Dei glo~ 

riam!^ We commission Father Florentius Digo, 
* “ To the advancement of God’s glory !” 


THE JESUIT AND HIS TOOLS. 239 

our beloved son, to trace the person of Antoine 
Moreau of Monne, Flanders, who is an apostate 
from our Church, and to bring him to us, alive 
or dead. This Antoine Moreau has forsaken his 
mothers house, and, according to received infor- 
mation, is supposed to be in Leyden, Holland. He 
has been led astray by a certain Walter Harmsen, 
also resident at Leyden, but in the habit of travers- 
ing the land to delude the people with his heretic 
doctrines and draw them away from the true faith. 
Although it is of first importance to secure the per- 
son of Antoine Moreau, we nevertheless commis- 
sion our beloved son. Father Florentius Higo, to 
spare no trouble to bring this man also before us 
— or, at least, to put him out of the way of con- 
tinuing to spread his heresy. All brethren, mem- 
bers and servants of our society are hereby com- 
manded to assist said Father Florentius Higo in 
this matter. Given at Tournay, anno 1607, the 
30th of June. 

' Philippus Depot, 

^ Superior S. JJ ” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


PREPARING THE SNARE. 

"V/^ES, two birds with oue stone.” repeated 

-L Melchior, but that will not be easy.” 

^^Oh, nothing is too difficult for us when we 
labor for the glory of God,” said the Jesuit. 
“We are taught to be patient, and we are never 
disappointed in our expectations. For the present 
we know sufficient for our purpose. We have our 
eye on their persons, and we must exercise prudence. 
It is now my first duty to secure Antoine Moreau ; 
and if I fail to entice Walter Harmsen into our 
power, I must at least forestall any efforts on his 
l)art to prevent Antoine from going to Flanders.” 

“ Did you not say a while ago that you possessed 
an infallible inducement whereby to ensnare An- 
toine Moreau?” asked Melchior. 

“Yes, that I have.” 

“ And what is it?” 

“You will learn this later,” was Digo’s curt 
reply. “You are aware that I am skilled in the 
practice of medicine ; this will be of use to me in 
gaining access to the houses where these men have 

240 


PREPARING THE SNARE. 


241 


their lodgings, for I must know exactly how they 
are situated and who are members of the families 
with whom they board, and this will aid me in 
taking my measures. Brordus will, I trust, to- 
morrow afford me information in regard to some 
of these matters. Now I must ask to be left alone, 
for I wish to send word immediately to my superior, 
with whom I promised to communicate as soon as 
I had any certain knowledge of INloreau’s where- 
abouts.’^ 

Melchior, who would gladly have gained further 
information or have penetrated the Jesuit’s designs, 
bit his lips with vexation, but, comprehending that 
all attempts to attain this end would be useless, 
he gave his hand to Digo, wished him success 
and returned to his back room. 

As soon as his landlord had left the room 
Florentius Digo locked the door, saying to himself, 
Melchior is getting to be a little troublesome. 
He wants to know everything, and I tell him a 
great deal ; but a wise Christian must not tell all 
he knows nor betray all his plans. His object 
is money and oura is souls^ and certainly the latter is 
a far more exalted one, for it involves the glory of 
God.” 

While speaking Digo had opened a wardrobe, 
divested himself of his burgher-dress and put on 
priestly garments. Next he took from a dark 
corner a black wooden cross with the image of the 
If) 


242 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


Redeemer upon it ; this cross he placed upon the 
table. He then laid a small prayer-book before 
the crucifix, kneeled by the table and bowed his 
head over it till his lips nearly touched the surface. 
For full twenty minutes he remained in this position, 
repeating several prayers from the book and occasion- 
ally kissing the crucifix. Finally, he took a piece 
of cord and with it beat himself upon the back and 
shoulders so that the impressions remained visible 
upon his clothing, and at the end of this castigation 
he prayed half aloud : 

O holy Virgin Mary, come to my aid ! I wish 
to regain and save a soul which has wandered 
away from the true faith. O Virgin most holy, 
assist me, that I may bring the wanderer back into 
the bosom of our Church — or, at least, save his soul 
from eternal misery.’’ 

After remaining a few moments longer in this 
supplicating posture, Florentius rose from his 
knees, put everything back in its place and sat 
down by the table to engage in writing. 

While the Jesuit is occupied with his letter to 
his superior we shall take the opportunity to fol- 
low the movements of our humbler friend, Bror- 
dus Groot. 

In spite of the measures of the magistracy to 
secure the proper observance of Sunday, there 
always have been people who will sin against the 
institutions of both God and man. It was so at 


pbt:pabing the snabe. 


243 


Leydea. The breweries and the inns were for- 
bidden to be open to the public on Sunday, but 
those who kept these houses always managed to 
have a back door for the accommodation of such as 
wished to slake their thirst for beer on that day, 
and habitual customers knew very well where that 
back door was to be found. Not far from the fish- 
market there was an alley where lived a brewer who 
also sold his own beverage and had designated his 
place ‘^The Full Vat.” Many lovers of malt 
liquors were in the habit of visiting this place, 
and among these was Brordus — that is, whenever 
he was in condition to pay for his enjoyment; 
for the host gave no credit. 

On this Sunday afternoon Brordus hastened to 
the Full Vat as soon as his master had sent him 
upon his new errand. His desire for a pot of beer 
was greater than ever after the trick that old 
Melchior had played him, and he meant to take 
revenge upon his previous disappointment by a 
liberal indulgence now. He rattled the copper 
coins in his pockets as he entered, to announce to 
the innkeeper that if he could furnish beer there 
would be no danger of the money not being forth- 
coming. The barroom was not occupied by any one 
else, which gave Digo’s clothes-brusher no uneasi- 
ness. He placed himself at one of the clean- 
scoured tables and drank to his heart’s content. 
When he thought he was in proper condition to 


244 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


undertake the mission upon which he had been 
despatched, he rose and left the inn. He went to 
the street facing the Maare gate where was located 
the house of the widow Van Dyck. Arrived at 
the house, where he was well known, he raised the 
knocker and gave two loud knocks. The door 
was quickly opened by a girl of about sixteen 
years, of a healthy and winning appearance, with 
a good-natured expression of countenance and a 
forehead that indicated intelligence. Altogether, 
she made a pleasant impression upon even the cas- 
ual observer. When she saw the person who had 
knocked, a slight frown became visible upon her 
clear brow, and words which might not altogether 
have expressed a pleased surprise at a call from 
him almost sprang to her lips. He was evidently, 
also, a little the worse for his beer. Nevertheless, 
she did not prevent his entrance. 

^^Will you be kind enough to walk and speak 
very softly, Brordus?’’ she whispered to him. 

For you know mother is very weak ; she can 
hardly stand even my reading to her.” 

^^Oh yes, miss,” answered Brordus. know 
just how much your mother can stand, so I’ll speak 
vewy soft. Is she sitting up ?” 

^^•Yes, she is,” was the reply, the girl ascending 
a dark, narrow staircase, the visitor closely follow- 
ing. ^^Here is the door. Now, speak softly, 
remember !” 


PREPARING THE SNARE. 


245 


The two entered an apartment plainly furnished, 
but neat and comfortable. At the window, which 
looked out upon the meadows surrounding the city, 
sat a woman of about fifty years of age, pale and 
evidently a great sufferer. Opposite to her stood 
an empty chair, and on the table lay an open book 
from which the girl had been reading. The pale- 
faced woman seemed no less surprised at this visit 
than her daughter had been, but she took the hand 
which Brordus held out to her. 

^‘We are old acquaintances. Dame van Dyck,” 
began the latter, in a burst of friendly feeling 
which got the better of his promise to speak low. 
As he took a seat upon the chair next to the wid- 
ow the girl made a sign, by laying her finger on her 
mouth, to remind him of her admonition to be less 
noisy. 

The widow nodded assent to Brordus’s friendly 
greeting, but did not speak. 

I have not been here in a long while,” he 
continued, and, since your husband and I used to 
work together and he was always kind to me, I 
thought I ought to pay you a visit, especially since 
I heard to-day that you were vewy ill. How are 
you now?” 

“Mother is very poorly indeed,” answered the 
girl, speaking for the invalid ; “ she suffers much 
from her lungs.” 

“ ^ Suffers from her lungs ’ ?” said Brordus, syni- 


246 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


pathizingly. ^^That is very bad. But I believe 
that I can be of some use to her, then.” 

You ?” asked the girl, astonished. 

Yes, I — Willebwoddus Gwoothuwwelbwink,” 
asserted Brordus, with dignity. You know I am 
not working at the weaver’s trade now, but do odd 
jobs of all kinds. I am fwequently at the house 
of Melchiow van Walle, who, you know, used to 
keep a druggist-shop.” 

^‘‘Melchior van Walle’?” said the widow, 
feebly. I do not like that man. We must not 
judge, says the Bible, but still we may know men 
by their fruits. Is he really a Protestant? I have 
heard evil reports about him.” 

I know nothing as to his being a Protestant,” 
answered Brordus, his tones getting louder, “but 
I do know that he is a miser who will never let 
me earn a cent. However, I have not learned the 
druggist business from him and do not know any- 
thing about medicines myself, but over a week ago 
a smart gentleman came and rented rooms of him. 
He is very skillful in using medicines, and he has 
told me that he is especially at home in treating 
lung troubles.” 

In spite of her former repugnance to the visitor 
and of her first inclination to doubt his words, 
the girl was carried away by the hope that here 
might really be an opportunity for the relief of her 
mother’s suffering. She quickly asked, therefore. 


PREPARING THE SNARE. 


247 


‘‘Would that doctor be willing to help mother?” 

“ Gewtainly, cewtainly !” Brordus assured her. 
“ I have only to ask him and he will be here wight 
away, fow he is very pwompt.” 

“ But his medicines are perhaps very dear,” said 
the sick woman. “ I am but a poor widow who 
since it pleased the Lord to take her dear hus- 
band must live very economically.” 

“ Oh, do not be afwaid,” said Brordus, encourag- 
ingly ; “ that foweign doctow takes no money fwom 
poow widows. He is, I believe, vewy wealthy, and, 
while he visits the sick by day, he pwepawes med- 
icines at night.” 

“ But even if it did cost you something, mother 
dear,” said her daughter, eagerly, “ health is a great 
treasure, and the Lord lets the herbs grow to cure 
the sick. I will gladly sell my lace collar if we 
have to pay for medicines.” 

“I know you mean well, Johanna,” said the 
widow, “ but I will not let you Jo that.” 

“ But, mother,” rejoined the girl, “ if you should 
have to pay for the medicines, I think it very likely 
that the young gentleman who boards with us 
would be glad to assist you.” 

“ Oh !” remarked Brordus, with the most innocent 
face in the world ; “ have you a boarder ?” 

“Yes; some one from Flanders — from Gour- 
tray,” was the reply. “He is employed in the 
bookstore of Mr. Paedts.” 


248 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


^^From Courtray?’^ inquired Brordus, with 
growing wonder depicted on his countenance. 

Yes — that is, from a village near Courtray,” 
replied Johanna. “ He had to flee for his life on 
account of his religion ; his mother barely saved 
liim.’’ 

“ Oh, you don’t say ?” observed Brordus, striking 
his hands upon his knees to express his astonish- 
ment. “ Well, now, that is very wemarkable !” 

“ What is ?” asked mother and daughter at the 
same time. 

‘^Why, because I have heard my doctow tell 
about a mother who cwies for her son day and 
night, and whose son is supposed to have wun 
away to these parts somewhere. I believe that she 
is almost dying and has witten a letter to her son. 
Wait a moment; my doctow mentioned also the 
name of that mother. Madame Mow — ” 

Moreau ?” exclaimed Johanna. 

“ Yes, that js it ; Moweau. Madame Moweau 
has also a daughter, who is very wicked.” 

“ Oh, it is the same — the very same lady who is 
the mother of Mr. Antoine,” cried Johanna, in the 
fullness of her heart. How rejoiced he will be to 
hear from his mother !” 

“ Say, rather, grieved, my child,” coughed the 
sick woman, holding her hand to her breast as 
if in pain ; “ for did you not hear Brordus say that 
she is dying?” 


PREPARING THE SNARE. 


249 


I have still more to tell you/’ said Brordus. 

My worthy doctow has the letter of Madame 
Moweau in his possession, and has been looking 
all over the city for her son. How strange that 
I should have come here just at this time ! I had 
thought first of going to church, but ^ No,’ I said 
to myself ; ‘ I had better go and see Dame van 
Dyck.’ How coincidental ! How glad my good 
doctow will be when he hears of it ! I’ll go back 
to him right away to tell him about it, and also to 
ask about your lung troubles.” 

You had better wait,” said the widow ; per- 
haps our lodger will be back soon. He is not very 
well, either, and suffers much from headaches. We 
expect him every moment; he went to Voorschoten 
with a friend to conduct some evangelistic services.” 

^ To Voorschoten ’ !” exclaimed Brordus. 
wish I had known this, for I surely would have 
gone myself ; but it doubtless was not intended that 
I should enjoy that blessing. But now I must go. 
Good-bye, good Dame van Dyck. I will see you 
again soon.” 

At this moment the knocker was struck upon 
the door. Johanna rose quickly, but Brordus was 
ahead of her, and, descending the narrow stairs, he 
soon reached the front door, opened it and hurried 
past two persons w*ho stood upon the stoop, and 
who were none other than Antoine Moreau and 
Walter Harmsen. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


DOCTOR A-^D PATIENT. 

I T was ten o’clock in the evening of the same day. 

The widow Van Dyck and her daughter had 
retired to rest some time ago and fallen asleep in 
the happy expectation of a visit on the morrow 
from the foreign doctor who would put an end to 
the mother’s sufferings. 

But there was one in the dwelling who could not 
sleep. Antoine Moreau was seated at a little 
table near his bed ; he leaned with both elbows 
upon the table, pressed his open palms against 
his temples and seemed plunged in deep thought. 

My poor m'other sick unto death !” he sighed, 
wiping the tears from his cheeks. How this news 
pierced my heart ! My dear mother ! and suffering 
on my account ! Had I wings, I would fly to her 
embrace. And why should I not go? Who will 
prevent me? Not Mr. Paedts, surely ; he would 
at once excuse me if he knew the circumstances. 
The widow Van Dyck does not dissuade me, for she 
suggested to me that could I be with mother jier- 
haps I might be the means of bringing her from 

250 


DOCTOR AND PATIENT. 


251 


tlie brink of death back to life, not only physical- 
ly, but spiritually. But Mr. Walter Harmsen gives 
no credence to this rumor. It may be true, he told 
me in parting, that my mother is veiy sick — even 
sick unto death — but that the persons through whom 
the tidings have come awaken suspicion. He feai^s 
that the Jesuits are behind this, and that my ene- 
mies are lying in wait to deliver me over to the 
power of Father Benedictus and tlie Inquisition. 
But perhaps Mr. Harmsen judges too harshly. 
True, Melchior van Walle may not have a savory 
reputation, but on that account must I conclude 
that the Courtray doctor is of the same stamp? 
It may be, as it is said, purely coincidental. And 
even if there were some ground for my sharing the 
suspicions of Mr. Harmsen, the matter could soon 
be determined by means of that letter which the 
doctor is said to have in his possession.’^ 

Antoine ceased speaking, and listened to discover 
if any one were astir in the house. All was still. 
The town-clock struck half-past ten. 

No,” he continued ; I cannot go to bed. I 
could not sleep, for my head beats like a trip- 
hammer. It aches terribly. I trust I will not get 
sick and die before I can go to mother. I cannot 
rest till I know more about her. Perhaps I could 
see the doctor this very night. But is it not too 
late ? But no ; Johanna said that the doctor pre- 
pares his medicines at night. He may not, there- 


252 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


fore, have retired as yet. Yes, I had better go 
and see him. Oh, motlier, gladly would I give 
my life to save yours.’^ 

The youth rose from his chair in order to carry 
out his purpose, and had the knob of the door in 
his hand, when he bethought himself and returned 
to his chair. He knelt down by it and poured 
forth his heart to God in fervent prayer for his 
mother and himself. After this he wrapped him- 
self in his mantle, with noiseless steps left his room 
and the house and walked out into the darkness. 

At this very hour Melchior van Walle and Flo- 
rentius Digo were busily engaged in boiling herbs 
in the little court of their dwelling; a small lan- 
tern suspended from a stick projecting from Melchi- 
or’s back room lighted them in their work. The 
whilom apothecary was stirring the seething mass 
in an earthen pot standing upon a portable furnace, 
while he held a sand-glass in the other hand. The 
Jesuit occasionally let fall a drop or two of a watery 
substance into a mixture which stood boiling by 
the side of the other. 

I believe that the medicine for the widow’s 
lung trouble is nearly ready,” said Melchior, once 
more consulting his sand-glass. “ Was it not two 
hours that the ingredients were to be boiled?” 

^‘Yes,” whispered Digo, ^^but are those two 
hours gone already?”. 


DOCTOR AND PATIENT. 


253 


CoDsult the hour-glass. I put the drugs into 
the pan when the clock struck half-past eight, and 
for the second time the glass indicates that nearly 
an hour has passed.’^ 

^^Very good/^ said the Jesuit. ‘^Be so kind, 
then, as to pour the contents through a sieve into a 
flask, and let it cool till morning, when the widow 
will need to take it. Methinks, if you are through 
with that, you might as Avell retire ; for my prep- 
aration is not yet done, and it may take half the 
luVlit.^’ 

^^What preparation is it?’’ inquired Melchior, 
who had frequently cast glances at the mixture 
that Digo was concocting, but had not been able 
to make out what it was. 

I am preparing a cordial for my own use,” 
answered the Jesuit without a moment’s hesitation, 
although the statement was an utter falsehood. 

Melchior delayed as much as he could by slowly 
])ouring the medicine he had prepared out of the 
pan and through the sieve, and by making a])- 
parently fruitless search for a proper flask in which 
to j)reserve it. But finally he was through with his 
work, and then, having in vain repeated his question, 
he was compelled to retire to his back room. 

Florentius Digo remained alone in the courtyard. 
He busied himself incessantly with his mixture, 
and occasionally brought it close to the lantern to 
ascertain its ])rogress. 


254 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


It takes a long time/’ he muttered, for that 
liquid to assume the required color ; it continues too 
bluish, and would thus be visible if put into water. 
But look !” he continued, pouring something from a 
little vial. It is getting paler already. Now ! 
now it is of the right tint.” 

A hellish exultation overspread the countenance 
of Bigo, and he eagerly stretched out his hands to 
take the copper basin from the furnace ; but in his 
excitement he forgot that it was red hot, and he 
burned his fingers badly. A curse escaped him, 
but, recollecting himself, he drew a crucifix from 
his pocket, kissed it several times and mumbled a 
prayer. Having learned caution from his previous 
experience, he removed the crucible with the proper 
instruments, placed it upon the ground and poured 
the fluid, which iu quantity did not exceed three 
tablespoonfuls, into a vial. He had just finished 
these operations when he raised his head and 
listened intently. The steps of one approaching 
the house could be plainly heard. He held his 
breath and said to himself, 

^^Can it be he? I had almost abandoned the 
hope that he would come.” 

The sound of a knocker was heard striking the 
front door ; it was faint and brief, as if the person 
who wished to announce himself had scarcely ven- 
tured to lift the knocker. The pale cheeks of the 
Jesuit became flushed with anticipation and eager 


DOCTOR AND PATIENT. 


255 


joy. He hastily blew out the lantern, entered the 
house, and, hurrying through the hall to the door 
in front, he asked through the keyhole. 

Who is that 

A young man who wishes to consult the doctor 
from Courtray,’’ was the reply. 

But do you know how late it is ? You have 
disturbed me in my sleep. Can you not return on 
the morrow 

The Jesuit was certain that the answer would be 
a negative one ; he wished to augment the youth’s 
desire by seeming discouragement, and thus make 
more sure of his prey. 

could indeed come again to-morrow, but 
pardon me, doctor, if I beseech you to receive 
me now.” 

Florentius pretended to be grumbling while he 
drew the bolts, opened the door and let Antoine Mo- 
reau into the house. It was pitch-dark in the hall, 
and thus the Jesuit was compelled to take Antoine’s 
hand and conduct him to his room. He with diffi- 
culty restrained an involuntary shudder that threat- 
ened to shake his frame as he touched his victim’s 
hand. The youth followed his conductor with im- 
plicit confidence and without a suspicion that he 
was being led as a lamb to the slaughter. 

Arrived in his rooms Digo lighted a small lamp 
suspended from the ceiling and took care to place a 
chair for Antoine in such a position that the ' full 


256 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


light would fall upon bis features, while he himself 
would be in the shade. 

You wish to consult me began the Jesuit. 

I must say the hour is a somewhat unusual 
one.” 

Pardon me, learned sir,^’ replied Antoine, from 
time to time lifting his cold hand to his forehead, as 
if to reduce the burning heat — pardon me, but I 
could get no rest.’’ 

What, then, has brought you to my house ?” in- 
quired the Jesuit. 

My mother.” 

Your mother? In what way am I connected 
with her? Am I acquainted with her?” 

“ I have been informed that you are.” 

Who has informed you ?” 

The widow Van Dyck, at whose house I lodge ; 
she had a visit from a former weaver — a fellow- 
workman of her husband, Brordus Groot, or some- 
thing like that, by name. Is he known to you ?” 

“ ‘ Brordus ’ did you say ?” inquired the Jesuit, 
ap})arently making an effort to recollect the name. 

Oh yes ! Let me see. Yes, I have heard his 
name.” 

This man told tlie widow Van Dyck that you 
know my mother.” 

“Your mother? I know so many mothers, for 
as doctor I visit several families. What is her 
name ?” 


DOCTOR AND PATIENT. 


257 


Jeanne Moreau, of Monne, near Courtray/’ re- 
plied the youth, becoming encouraged. 

I know her very well. She is a very amiable 
lady/’ 

‘^My mother? Yes indeed, she is an amiable 
lady,^’ said Antoine, fervently. “ I love her more 
than I love my life.” 

^^But did you not run away from her? How 
must I reconcile that with your words just now? 
I have always understood that one prefers to remain 
near those whom one loves dearly.” 

The youth did not at once reply. He hid his face 
in both hands, but could not prevent the light from 
showing the tears between his fingers. 

Yes, I indeed left her,” he sighed, but I did 
not flee from her ; I was compelled to leave Monne 
and Courtray, and to come hither.” 

Who compelled you to do so ?” asked the Jesuit, 
quietly. 

Antoine Moreau looked at Digo as if he would 
read upon his countenance from what source pro- 
ceeded this question, but, seeing nothing on those 
emaciated features but an expression of kindly in- 
terest — which the Jesuit could assume to perfec- 
tion — he said, 

Are we alone here ?” 

Why that question ?” 

Because there are certain wicked persons who 
would gladly ensnare a human soul.” 

17 


258 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


The Jesuit rightly gathered from this answer 
that Antoine cherished no suspicion whatever as 
to his real character, and to confirm his confidence 
still further he deemed it expedient to throw in a 
pious reflection : 

You are right. But you may depend upon it 
that we are here alone, and that in this room none 
but God sees us or hears us. Say, then, what you 
wish to tell me, but pray be brief, for it is near 
midnight.’’ 

You are, of course, not unacquainted with the 
fact that a division has taken place in the Church,” 
began Antoine. 

You mean by the Reformation,” said Floren- 
tius. Do you regret it ?” 

Not at all,” replied Antoine, quickly, at the 
same time gathering from the tone with which the 
doctor put the question that the latter was inclined 
to favor the Reformation. No, not at all ! The 
Reformation was a blessed event, and it grieves me 
sorely that it still meets with so many opponents. 
T too was formerly foolish — or let me, rather, say 
blind — enough to believe that a priest could forgive 
my sins, or that anything was required to be as- 
sured of salvation except a sincere and heartfelt 
faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.” 

I am rejoiced to hear you speak thus,” observed 
Digo, who by this ambiguous declaration sought to 
entrap the youth still further, increasing his con- 


DOCTOR AND PATIENT. 


259 


fidence and forging weapons against him out of his 
own mouth. 

I thank the Lord that he gave me the grace to 
close my heart against the errors of Rome and to 
open it to the full light of the gospel. I could not 
keep silent when the joy of these new convictions 
thrilled my heart. It became known that I had 
become a heretic, and now the enemy sought to 
take and destroy me.” 

Was I wrongly informed,” inquired the Jesuit, 
that you had a friend who visited you and made 
you acquainted with the doctrines of the Reforma- 
tion ?” 

No, doctor ; yon were correctly informed. To 
my last breath will I bless the Lord for sending 
this friend to me when he did.” 

can easily comprehend your feelings,” said 
Digo. ‘^And I understand it was in the hope 
of encountering that friend, who lives in this city, 
that you directed your way hither? Even during 
my short stay I have heard him highly spoken of 
in this neighborhood. His name, if I mistake not, 
is Walter Harmsen?” 

It is the same, doctor, and this very afternoon 
I accompanied him to Yoorschoten and back.” 

Indeed ?” said the Jesuit, and continued in an 
insinuating manner : It will afford me extreme 
gratification to make his acx][uaintance. He is to 
me a person of great interest.” 


260 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


I shall be glad to afford you the opportunity of 
meeting him/’ said Antoine, delighted. 

But it will have to occur very promptly/’ smil- 
ingly observed Florentius, unless it be postponed 
to a subsequent visit. My patients at Courtray 
cannot do without me very much longer ; hence I 
must leave for home to-morrow night.” 

Antoine started. Although he had come here 
fully prepared to give due weight to Walter Harm- 
sen’s suspicions and determined to be on the watch, 
the conversation and the expression of the doctor’s 
sentiments to which it had led — evidently favorable 
to the Reformation and warmly appreciative of 
J\Ir. Harmsen’s character — had confirmed him in 
the conviction that the man was what he had 
represented himself to be, and that he could not be 
a spy of the Jesuits and the Inquisition. A nd now 
it seemed that he must lose his society so soon. 
Tliis filled Antoine with dismay. 

But Digo was aware that it was unwise to let the 
young man’s thoughts run a long time upon on© 
point ; hence he continued : 

Do not allow this to distress you. If it please 
Heaven, we shall soon meet again, then not to 
separate for a long season. I now fully understand 
your situation. I perceive that the enemies of the 
Reformation have compelled you to take flight, as 
otherwise they would have delivered you into the 
power of the Inquisition.” 


DOCTOR AND PATIENT. 


261 


“ That is my case exactly, learned sir,” assented 
Antoine. 

Well, I must confess that this was not an ill- 
advised course on your part, for it is by no means 
a light thing to fall into the hands of the Inquisi- 
tion. But how did your mother feel about this ?” 

‘^My mother? Oh, doctor, if you could have 
witnessed the struggle going on in my mother’s 
heart, especially in the moment when I was 
pursued and she aided me to escape !” 

“ I can easily imagine it. In the mean time, I 
am glad that I was not deceived in your identity, 
and you must pardon me for asking so many ques- 
tions : I wished to be perfectly sure you were the 
right person. And now that I find you are, 
allow me to warn you. I know that many persons 
have been sent here under the auspices and by the 
orders of the Inquisition, with the command to put 
you to death ; for even to such extremes the malice 
of the enemies of the Reformation will sometimes 
go. I should judge it safer for you, accordingly, 
to leave this city and fix your residence elsewhere.” 

‘‘But whither shall I go?” inquired Antoine, 
whose head still throbbed and burned as in a fever. 

The Jesuit pretended to be reflecting for a few 
moments : 

“I would suggest the city of Lille, in France. 
You could remain unknown there, and, besides, the 
Inquisition is not in force there.” 


262 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


But why leave a country like this, where the 
Reformed religion is fully established, and go to 
France ? Even though the Inquisition is not 
tolerated there, yet neither have the Huguenots 
been able to gain the victory over the faith of 
Rome.’^ 

“ Well, I thought of it as a place that was much 
nearer your mother. On the way to Lille you 
could visit her and gladden her heart by the sight 
of you, however brief the interview. I know how 
much her life depends upon your presence. I saw 
her only fourteen days ago; she suffered much, 
but my medicines relieved her pain to a great 
extent. The main and incurable difficulty, how- 
ever, and that which will be the death of her, is 
the separation from you. Your image is before 
her day and night, and she constantly assured me 
that she would gladly share a prison, and even 
death, with you rather than remain severed as 
now.^^ 

By this artful picture of Antoine^s suffering 
mother, whose life was represented as depending 
on his return, a powerful impression was wrought 
upon the confiding youth. The Jesuit saw him 
reel upon his chair and gasp for breath. He 
hastened to his support and gave him some potent 
cordial to restore him to himself. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


A MOTHER’S LETTER. 

HEN Antoine Moreau had recovered some- 



» * what from the effects of his overwrought 
feelings, he said, 

It has also been told me that my mother gave 
you a letter to be handed to me.’^ 

This is indeed so. When I informed her that 
in the pursuit of my professional studies it would 
be necessary for me to visit the university in this 
city for a few days, she gave me this letter, which 
she wrote in my presence while the tears were 
streaming down Iier cheeks.’^ 

At these words Florentius Digo drew from, his 
pocket a paper folded square and into convenient 
dimensions for secreting about the person. The 
youth at once eagerly reached out his hand toward 
the precious missive, but the supposed doctor re- 
placed it immediately in his pocket. 

I am sorry to cause you so cruel a disappoint- 
ment,’’ he explained ; but you are only a youth 
and do not know to what dire extremes religious 
hatred can go. I have already told you that the 
Inquisition has despatched secret spies hither to lie 


263 


264 


THE SOLDIER WARD. 


in wait for your life. If these men should dis- 
cover that I am making common cause with you 
— that I have advised you to settle at Lille — I 
could not be sure of my own life for a moment 
after my return to my native town. But the worst 
offence I could commit, in the judgment of the 
Inquisition, would be to hand, you a writing from 
any source. Besides, this would furnish document- 
ary evidence against me.^’ 

And do you suppose, worthy doctor, that I 
would betray you? No tortures in the world 
would be able to force your name from me.’’ 

Nay ; I do not for an instant doubt your good- 
will,” said the Jesuit, but you do not know your 
own strength or how weak you might become under 
the severe ordeal of the rack and — ” 

I assure you, doctor, nevertheless,” said An- 
toine, with firmness and decision beyond his years, 
that no one upon this earth would ever learn that 
you had conveyed this letter to me. Oh, do not 
leave me any longer unacquainted with what my 
dear mother has written to me.” 

Antoine had risen from his chair in the fervor of 
his speech, but he was compelled to keep himself 
from falling by holding on to the table, for a tre- 
mendous paroxysm of pain seemed to tear his brain. 
The full light of the lamp shone upon his noble 
features, and he gazed with intense earnestness into 
the eyes of the man oj>j)osite. 


A MOTHEB^S LETTER. 


265 


In the mind of Digo was actually going on a 
struggle which was manifest upon his countenance, 
but Antoine deceived himself as to its real nature. 
The Jesuit was in doubt whether this was the time 
to strike his blow or if it were best to wait twenty- 
four hours longer. He appreciated that the depart- 
ure of the young man could not easily be effected 
Avithout the knowledge of the publisher Paedts and 
Walter Harmsen, yet the obtaining of that knowl- 
edge must be prevented in some way. The less, 
therefore, the youth spoke of his intended move- 
ments, the better for the Jesuit’s plans. 

Antoine, who could not restrain his eager long- 
ing for the letter, laid his hand upon the shoulder 
of Florentius. 

Oh, doctor,” he pleaded, do not torment me 
any longer. Let me read my mother’s letter, and 
I am prepared to follow you wherever you may 
deem fit.” 

Do you know what you are saying, young 
man ?” asked Digo, seriously. Suppose I were 
an enemy?” 

Ah, no ! such you are not. I feel it ; I know 
it. Therefore, I pray you, give me my mother’s 
letter.” 

The doctor still hesitated. At length he said. 

Very well; I will risk my life for your sake. 
But permit me at least to use a caution which is 
necessary. Swear to me that you will tell no one 


266 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


in this city of Leyden that you have seen me or 
that I liave allowed you to read your mother’s let- 
ter ; I must ask you to do this for the reasons just 
stated. And if you will swear this, why I might 
as well go deeper into offence and promise to con- 
duct you safely to Monne, so that before settling 
elsewhere you may meet your mother. I possess a 
passport for two persons, given on the authority of 
the governor-general of the Spanish Netherlands. 
It was my intention to have invited some young 
physician just graduated here to accompany me 
and undertake a practice in Courtray, to relieve my 
own too arduous labors. I will allow you to take 
advantage of the passport instead.” 

The Jesuit perceived with some alarm that An- 
toine now hesitated in his turn ; for a moment he 
feared that he might have overacted his part and 
awakened the youth’s suspicious. He judged it 
best, therefore, to feign indifference to his answer, 
and, assuming a tone of vexation, said, 

^‘What? Do you not accept my proposition? 
Why, then, do you come here at this untimely 
hour and rob me, a man in poor health, of the 
night’s rest which I so greatly need ?” 

I am not permitted to do what you require of 
me,” said Antoine, with earnest deliberation. 

^‘And why not?” inquired the Jesuit, more 
mystified than ever. 

Without saying another word the youth drew 


A MOTHERS S LETTER. 


267 


from his pocket a copy of the Bible; and after 
turning several pages he read the passage in James 
V. 12: ^^But above all things, my brethren, swear 
not, neither by heaven, neither by the earth, neither 
by any other oath : but let your yea be yea ; and 
your nay, nay ; lest ye fall into condemnation.” 
After reading this he placed the open book before 
the Jesuit and pointed Avith his finger to the verse. 

Never before, perhaps, had such a deadly pallor 
spread over the emaciated cheeks of the Jesuit as 
at this moment, when by the very part he played 
he was compelled to lay his eyes upon the hated 
Bible of the Reformers. Though a master in the 
art of deception, it was Avith the greatest difficulty 
that he refrained from betraying himself through 
losing control over his feelings. He closed his 
eyes, that he might not see the fateful letters ; but 
he comforted himself with the reflection that this 
very book in Antoine’s possession was a deadly 
evidence against him, and he adroitly turned his 
irrepressible horror to account by making it ap- 
pear that his deep emotion had been occasioned by 
his conAuction of the truth of the Avords. 

^^You see, therefore, learned sir,” continued 
Antoine, that I cannot comply Avith your request. 
The apostle Paul indeed commends the oath as the 
end of all strife, but this is the civil oath required 
by the magistrate, whom also we are enjoined to 
obey. But you Avould require of me a private 


268 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


oath, as between you and me personally. I cannot 
consent to swear such an oath. AVe must obey 
God rather than men.” 

It is now perfectly plain to me,” replied Flo- 
rentius, quietly ; I am sorry I did not think of 
these things without your reminder. No; you 
ought not to swear to me.” 

I rejoice that you share my sentiments in the 
matter. You may be assured that I would rather 
die than break my word of promise ; my yea and 
nay are to me as sacred as is an oath.” 

The Jesuit was too shrewd and too well acquaint- 
ed with human nature not to be perfectly convinced 
that an oath would be superfluous here. He there- 
fore said, 

‘‘Very well; I trust you. Lay your hand in 
mine and promise me solemnly, with a sincere yea, 
that while here in Leyden you will not mention to 
any one, whoever it may be, that you have seen me 
or received a letter from me. Only on this condi- 
tion can I consent to deliver to you the letter, and 
after reading it we will together consult how we 
shall arrange it first to visit your mother and next 
to secure you a residence elsewhere where you will 
be unmolested. Have you comprehended my mean- 
ing ?” 

“ Yes ; I understand you,” answered Antoine, 
grasping the Jesuit’s hand and trembling with 
emotion. “ I promise you that so long as I am in 


A MOTHERS S LETTER. 


269 


Leyden I shall not mention having seen you or 
receiving a letter from you/^ 

The Jesuit drew the wick of the lamp a little 
higher, then took the letter from his pocket and 
handed it to Antoine. The youth sank into a chair, 
held the precious paper in both hands, unfolded it, 
and when he saw his mother’s familiar handwriting 
kissed the page and cried. 

Oh, my dear, dear mother !” 

The Jesuit withdrew into the next room, and 
left Antoine Moreau alone during his perusal of 
the letter. 

When Florentius Digo re-entered the room, he 
was astonished to notice how pale Antoine had 
become. Indeed, the intense excitement which had 
suffused forehead and cheeks with a red, feverish 
hue was completely gone, and was replaced by a 
calmness which was more appalling than the other 
had been. The Jesuit was slightly alarmed when 
he beheld that pallid countenance, and for a 
moment he feared that the excessive strain upon 
Antoine’s nerves, followed by a too powerful stir- 
ring of his emotions by the reading of the letter, 
might have so shocked the youth as to affect his 
reason. Another fear took possession of Digo as 
the idea struck him that sickness or sudden death 
might deprive him of his victim in the very hour 
when success seemed to have crowned all his efforts. 
He accordingly felt he must hasten to his relief by 


270 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


medical treatment, and, silently invoking the aid 
of the Holy Virgin, he took a vial from a closet, 
poured a few drops into a goblet of water and 
handed it to Antoine, who drank it mechanically. 
The Jesuit breathed more freely when this had 
been done, for he knew that the medicine would 
afford relaxation to the strained nerves. 

Worthy doctor,^’ said Antoine, in tones so cool 
and decisive that Digo looked at him in wonder, 
did you not say that you meant to take your de- 
parture the very next night 

I must without fail leave here to-morrow night,” 
was the reply. 

A while ago you made me promise you some- 
thing, which I cheerfully did ; now I have to ask 
you to make me a promise with all seriousness.” 

Until I know what it is you require I cannot 
say that I can make it,” said the Jesuit, although 
he pretty shrewdly conjectured what Antoine was 
about to ask. 

I shall ask of you nothing that you cannot 
grant,” said the youth, rising and standing im- 
mediately in front of Florentius. 

Let me hear what you wish of me.” 

Promise me that you will not leave without me, 
and that you will safely conduct me to my mother 
that I may see her once more before she dies ; then 
I shall cheerfully surrender my life into the Lord^s 
bauds.” 


A MOTJIFJi’S LETTER. 


271 


Yes, that I s\v — I promise you,” said Flo- 
rentius, correcting himself. 

“ Very well ; I thank you and, taking the Jes- 
uit’s lean, bony hands, the youth pressed them to his 
lips. Now tell me what I must do,” he continued. 

Are you, then, willing to abandon yourself 
wholly to my guidance, whatsoever may be the 
consequences ?” 

Wholly, providing you bring me safely to my 
mother.” 

That I promise you, and I will add the assur- 
ance that you will be conducted in security else- 
where.” 

Tell me, then, what I must do.” 

“ To-morrow night, at two o’clock, a boat will be 
in readiness to take us to Kotterdam and Bergen-op- 
Zoom ; from that place we shall find opportunity to 
reach Ghent vid Antwerp, and thence to Courtray.” 

‘^How?” 

This I will tell you to-morrow night at two 
o’clock. When the town-clock strikes two hours 
after midnight, betake yourself to the Maare gate. 
Pass through this and step twenty paces to the left; 
there you will find me. Do you understand?” 

Yes ; very well indeed. I shall be there,” an- 
swered Antoine. 

The events of the last few hours had made an- 
other person of Antoine Moreau. One who had ob- 
served the modest youth but a day before, seeing 


272 


THE SOLDIER ’S WARD. 


liim in this place and at this hour, would not have 
thought it was the same person. His resolve stood 
fixed. Fear, anxiety, doubt, had disappeared, and 
had left room for a strength of will which could not 
be turned aside from its determination. What 
had wrought this great change in him? If we 
could have looked into the letter which he still 
held in his hand, the problem would have been 
solved. It read as follows ; 

My Deakly-beloved Son : May the holy 
angels protect you and cover you with their wings 
to shield you from all bodily harm ! How I long 
for you since your flight ! All my life’s joy has 
departed, and my body is consumed with grief. 
The only happiness I enjoy is when Marie, your 
sister, places my chair by the window whence I 
saw you last as you escaped from the garden. 
Then I stretch out my hands after you to embrace 
you, and call out to you, ^My son, my only son, 
come ! Return to your mother !’ I grow daily 
weaker, and the hour is perhaps not far off when 
I shall descend into the grave. And shall I not 
see you again ? No ; that cannot be. I must em- 
brace you once more before I die. Your lips shall 
press mine as I breathe my last. Farewell, my 
son. With tenderest love. 

Your mother, 

'Meanne Moreau.” 


A MOTHERS S LETTER. 


273 


Antoine read this letter once more, put it into his 
pocket and inquired, 

Will everything remain as agreed upon ? Must 
I provide for anything more?’^ 

Florentius did not at once answer; that quiet 
determination still alarmed him. He regarded the 
youth with concern, for it surprised liim that his 
medicine had not as yet produced its effect. Final- 
ly he said, 

‘^All remains as agreed upon. I am not, how- 
ever, altogether without anxiety about your health, 
although I trust that what I gave you a while ago 
will have a beneficial result during this night and 
to-morrow. But I fear for to-morrow night, and — 
He hesitated a moment and fixed his gray eyes stead- 
ily upon Antoine’s, as if he would discover what ef- 
fect his subsequent words would have upon him, and 
then continued: ^^And I apprehend that the shock 
to your system produced by the reading of the let- 
ter will be too much for you. Tell me, have you a 
friend who might be induced to watch to-morrow 
night by your bedside?” 

Yes, a tried friend who is faithful unto death.” 

What is his name ?” 

Walter Harmsen.” 

What did you name him?” asked the Jesuit, 
pretending not to have understood. 

Walter Harmsen.” 

What ! That excellent gentleman of whom 
18 


274 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


we spoke ? Is he so devoted to you as to be will- 
ing to sit up with you ? Well, if he will consent 
to do so, be sure and let him watch with you.’^ 

Oh, I need not doubt that. He shall certainly 
be with me.” 

So much the better,” observed Florentius, who 
was equally sure of it. “ But I am afraid he will 
fall asleep while he watches with you.” 

^^And do you think I will sleep?” asked An- 
toine Moreau. 

By all means ; your body needs it after the 
nervous exhaustion and emotional excitement it has 
experienced. Besides, it would be an excellent prep- 
aration for the journey if you could sleep part of 
the night.” 

Very well,” remarked Antoine. 

Will you tell him that at two o’clock you depart 
in my company ?” 

^^No,” promptly replied Antoine. 

But this friend must not sleep, else you might 
oversleep your time. To secure his wakefulness, 
here is a vial ; pour twelve drops of the liquid in 
a goblet of water and see that your friend drinks 
the same.” 

With these words Digo gave Antoine the vial 
whose contents he had concocted in the court a 
few hours ago. Antoine took it and put it into 
his pocket. 

“ Now I must leave you ; it is long after mid- 


A MOTHERS S LETTER. 


’ 275 


night. I ought not keep you longer from your 
needed rest,” said he. 

The youth and the supposed physician now sep- 
arated. The Jesuit took the lamp and lighted An- 
toine to the front door; wrapping himself in his 
cloak, the latter left the house. 

In the same moment some one crept along the 
courtyard, where he had stood beneath a window 
and listened to the conversation between Antoine 
and the Jesuit. 

The doctow must be a learned man ; he can 
make all people sleep or keep them awake, as he 
pleases. I nevew heard anything like it.” 

On returning to his room Florentius had locked 
the door and set the black crucifix upon the table, 
and, leaniug with his head against the edge of the 
table, he spent the greater part of the night in sup- 
plication and prayer. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A MIDNIGHT APPOINTMENT. 

T hrough small panes set in lead the setting 
snn threw his parting beams into the sitting- 
room of the widow Van Dyck^ house. The invalid 
was seated in an arm-chair and her daughter stood 
by her side, for with each day the mother’s need of 
Johanna’s aid became more pressing. An almost 
incessant coughing had troubled the sick woman 
through the afternoon, and now she lay back in 
her chair exhausted, while Johanna supported her 
mother’s head upon her arm. 

“ I think I will give you some more of that med- 
icine, mother,” said Johanna ; I hope it will do 
you good, but Brordus told us that the doctor said 
it would not produce relief before night. Shall I 
give you another cupful ?” 

The patient nodded assent, and Johanna left her 
side to procure what she wanted. She was busy 
filling a cup, when a knock was heard upon the 
front door, and she soon returned to. the room 
followed by Walter Harmsen, whose otherwise 
habitually cheerful face expressed great despondency 
276 


A MIDNIGHT APPOINTMENT. 277 

and anxiety. After the first greetings he asked 
somewhat hastily, 

Is not my friend Antoine Moreau in the 
house 

No,^^ replied Johanna, holding the cup of 
medicine to her mother’s lips — no ; and we have 
been wondering why we have seen nothing of him 
all day. He has probably been kept busy by Mr. 
Paedts.” 

I have just come from the book-store, but Mr. 
Paedts tells me that he saw him only a moment in 
the morning — that Antoine informed him that he 
would have to be absent all of to-day, and perhaps 
longer. I am at a loss to comprehend this strange 
conduct. Antoine told me nothing of any such 
purpose yesterday, either during our walk or on 
our return. When did you last see him?” 

^^This morning, as he was leaving the house. 
He was just as friendly as ever, but I was startled 
to notice his unusually pale features. I asked him 
if anything ailed him, but, strange to say, instead 
of answering, he turned his head and went off, yet 
not before I had seen the tears trickling down his 
cheeks.” 

^^It is very strange,” said Walter Harmsen. 
^^And have you not seen him since that?” 

^‘No, sir.” 

A renewed attack of coughing for a few minutes 
made further conversation impossible. Johanna at 


278 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


once g-ave her attention to the sufferer, rubbing her 
chest with warm flannels. Having afforded some 
relief by this means, Walter, who had momentarily 
forgotten his friend while contemplating the widow’s 
painful distress, took his place by her chair and, 
faithful to his calling, spoke a word of cheer to 
her : 

How happy is the soul that has found peace in 
Jesus !” The widow nodded an eager assent, and 
Walter continued : Though the body may be ill 
— yea, though death be near — these things can 
throw no obstacles in the way of God’s grace, nor 
separate the soul from its Saviour. Nay, they but 
produce a sense of more precious and closer union 
with him.” 

As Walter Harmsen was speaking Antoine en- 
tered the room. It cx)uld plainly be read upon his 
countenance that he was surprised to find Walter 
here, but, understanding at once from the last 
words and the attitude of the patient and her 
daughter that the evangelist was administering 
the consolations of God’s word to the sick, he 
quietly took his place next to his friend, bowed his 
head upon his hand, and thus gave evidence that 
he too was suffering and would share in the com- 
forts of God’s Spirit. Walter looked at him with- 
out ceasing to address the invalid, and was struck, 
as Johanna had been, by his extraordinary and 
alarming pallor. 


A MIDNIGHT APPOINTMENT. 


279 


The apostle says, ^ There is laid up for me 
a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the 
righteous Judge, will give me at that day ; and not 
to me only, but unto all them also that love his 
appearing/ This,” continued Walter Harmsen, 
is one of those glorious comforting promises 
which God vouchsafed to Paul, but which we too 
may appropriate if we love the person and the 
work of Jesus. Oh that all men might be so 
happy as to lean upon these immovable promises 
and to rejoice in them ! Then there would be fewer 
tears shed on the earth, and fewer sighs heard. 
Persecutions would cease, and an end would come 
to the words of prophecy, that the father shall be 
divided against his son, and the son against his 
father; the mother against — ” 

Walter could not proceed, as Antoine, at his side, 
began to sob aloud. 

What ails you, my dear friend ?” asked Wal- 
ter, who of course knew nothing of what had oc- 
curred since he parted from Antoine on the previ- 
ous evening. 

Alas ! my poor mother !” sobbed Antoine. I 
am so far from her, and she is on her death-bed 
without knowing aught of these promises or hav- 
ing any part in them. Oh that I might be with 
her ! Could I but bring her here into this room 
that she might observe the peace of a soul that 
rests only and wholly upon Jesus and his promises ! 


280 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Oh, my poor dear mother He covered his face 
with his hands and wept convulsively. 

Walter Harmsen saw that the words he had 
spoken to the widow Van Dyck had given occasion 
to Antoine to make a comparison between the for- 
mer and his own mother. He spoke to him sooth- 
ingly, and sought to comfort him by pointing him to 
the power and the love of Jesus, who has a thou- 
sand means at command to save a soul from eternal 
death. 

Suddenly, Antoine rose from his chair. Wal- 
ter’s words had awakened a new train of thought 
within him and added force to his determination to 
execute his plan. ‘^If Jesus,” was his reflection, 
has a thousand means at command to save a soul 
from eternal death, then may he — and will he not? 
— cause my mother to be converted. And may it 
not be that I am to be the instrument in the Lord’s 
hand ? Oh, if I could be with her ! No ; I can- 
not possibly remain away from her.” 

Walter regarded Antoine with painful apprehen- 
sion. The last rays of the sun fell upon the death- 
ly pallor of his cheeks. Harmsen could not pene- 
trate the young man’s thoughts, but it needed only 
a look at him to learn that something extraordinary 
was going on within him. Laying his hand upon 
Antoine’s shoulder, he said in a tone of voice ex- 
pressing tenderest solicitude. 

Something ails you, dear Antoine. Are you in 


A MIDNIGHT APPOINTMENT. 


281 


need of my help ? I see that you are suffering. 
Tell me, what lies upon your heart 

The youth, whose reflections had transported him 
to Monne and his mother’s bedside, was startled by 
Walter’s actions and words. The question filled 
him with redoubled anguish, for Walter was very 
dear to him. On the one side stood the doctor 
from Courtray, who had made him promise to com- 
municate to no one the conversation they had held 
and the plan which they meant to pursue ; on the 
other hand there stood a friend who was taking so 
deep an interest in his welfare, to whom he could 
not speak of that plan, and who would very likely 
counsel him against it if he knew of it. Above all 
rose the thought of his suffering mother, -perhaps 
upon her death-bed. He felt that strength failed 
him to separate from that friend before him without 
receiving a parting blessing, yet such words of 
farewell could not be spoken between them. What 
was to be done or said ? A sigh escaped him, and 
with the sigh a prayer rose to heaven that the Lord 
would keep him from the sin of deceit. But he 
must reply ; without looking Walter in the face he 
said, 

I feel ill and exceedingly weak, and I think it 
would do me good to retire at once and obtain some 
refreshing sleep. The reminiscences which came 
with renewed force to my mind as I related them 
to you yesterday afternoon affected me too strongly. 


282 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


And/’ he continued, mournfully shaking his head, 
when I think of the sweet and happy Christian 
confidence of our suffering friend Dame van Dyck, 
I am reminded painfully of her who, alas ! is still 
held by the power of darkness. Ah ! you cannot 
imagine what I am suffering. My head burns like 
fire. I cannot bear it much longer.” 

The widow, feeble as she was, made an effort to 
assure Antoine of her -sympathy and prayers. 
Johanna proposed making ready some refreshing 
cordial for him, but Antoine thanked them for 
their kindness, said that he knew of nothing that 
could help his fever, asked but for a glass of water, 
and proceeded with the latter to the room that he 
occupied. 

Walter ascribed his friend’s condition to the 
excessive strain upon his nervous system occasioned 
by the recent conversations. He followed Antoine 
to his room and placed himself by the side of the 
bed, whereupon the sufferer had cast himself with- 
out removing his clothes. 

Fully an hour passed, during which Walter 
dared not speak a word for fear of disturbing 
Antoine in his sleep, but, at the end of that time 
casting a glance toward the place where his friend 
lay motionless, he observed that he was not sleep- 
ing. Just then the town-clock struck ten. An- 
toine raised himself upon the bed as if frightened, 
and asked what time it was. 


A MIDNIGHT APPOINTMENT. 


283 


Ten o’clock, Antoine,” said Walter. I thought 
you were asleep.” 

No ; I cannot possibly sleep, neither do I wish 

to.” 

Walter looked at him in astonishment. 

^^Do you not wish to sleep?” inquired he. 

Why not ? A while ago you thought sleep 
would do you good.” 

No ; 1 do not want to sleep, for fear I might 
sleep over the time. I have a pressing appoint- 
ment to meet a person at two o’clock this night.” 

Walter’s astonishment was greatly increased by 
this announcement, while the fear began to possess 
him that Antoine’s mind was wandering. 

^^You to meet some one at two o’clock ? And 
this same night? Of what are you thinking? 
You are in no condition to keep such appointment. 
Lie down quietly and enjoy some sleep — believe me, 
that will be best for you — and to-morrow we will 
see how you are getting along.” 

^^No, dear friend,” said Antoine, geutly but 
firmly ; I do not wish to sleep unless you promise 
to watch with me and wake me at half-past one.” 

Walter comprehended nothing of this ; the only 
possible explanation seemed to be that Antoine’s 
mind had become disordered. He asked himself if 
this could be the same gentle, modest, even bashful, 
youth with whom on the previous day he had con- 
versed with so much pleasure and satisfaction. 


284 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


How changed he had become within a few hours ! 
He was concealing something. What could have 
happened to him ? What was going on within his 
heart which he to obstinately refused to reveal ? 

But, my dear Antoine,’’ said Walter, of what 
are you thinking? Who ever goes and meets a 
person at such an hour as that? You know very 
well that the wicked go forth in the hours of night. 
Come, be quiet and have a drink of water. Shall 
we pray together?” 

Most gladly, Mr. Walter,” replied Antoine, sit- 
ting up in the bed ; “ but I repeat : at two o’clock 
I have an appointment with a person. Should I 
fail to meet him then, I could never have a quiet 
hour again during all my life.” 

^^And whom are you to meet?” 

I am not just now at liberty to tell you, but be 
assured it is absolutely necessary. Promise to 
watch by my bed until the clock strikes the hour 
of half-past one. Look,” he continued, pouring 
into a glass of water a few drops from the vial 
which Florentius had given him — “look: here is 
something that will secure wakefulness. Drink 
this, and then I c^n have some sleep.” 

Walter thought that all this was very strange, 
but supposed that it would be advisable to yield 
to the young man’s wishes and thereby calm his 
too greatly excited nerves. 

“ I will do my best to keep awake,” he said, 


A MIDNIGHT APPOINTMENT 


285 


driukiug the glass of water, ‘^but how can I be 
sure of not falling asleep when you are sleeping? 
I have walked about a good deal to-day, and am 
very tired. Nevertheless, since you have set your 
heart upon it, I will do my utmost and try to 
read.” 

Set at rest by these words, Antoine asked Walter 
to pray, and after Walter had complied the youth 
lay down and fell asleep. 

Walter thought to himself. 

It may be that he really does want to meet 
some one, but he will not be able to prevent my 
following him when he goes out ; and then I must 
ascertain what this means and who has made so 
suspicious an appointment with him.” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


DIAMOND CUTTING DIAMOND. 

HE town-clock strikes half-past one.* Antoine 



-L Moreau starts from his bed into sudden wake- 
fulness. All is dark. All manner of ideas flash 
through his brain. Has no one waked him be- 
times? Has he been left alone? Has the doctor 
from Courtray gone without him ? Fearful appre- 
hensions seize upon him. He feels about him in 
all directions, to assure himself that he is still in 
his room. He takes a step forward and stumbles 
against Walter Harmsen, who is seated in an arm- 
chair sleeping from the effects of the drug prepared 
by the Jesuit for that purpose. Antoine is about 
to shake him, but recollects himself. 

Why should I wake him he says to him- 
self. If it is past the time, he ought to have his 
rest. If it is not too late for my purpose, he might 
dissuade me or prevent my departure.^’ 

*In some of the towns of Holland the clocks in church- 
steeples strike the half hours upon a different bell, feebler 
than that which strikes the hours. Two strokes of such feebler 
sound would indicate half-past one. — Translator. 


286 


DIAMOND CUTTING DIAMOND. 


287 


Antoine accordingly takes his hat and cloak from 
their accustomed place, lays the two volumes of the 
Paedts Bible upon the table near Walter’s chair, 
and is ready to leave his room. At the door he 
checks himself a moment, as if held by an in- 
visible hand. His glance turns to the window, 
and he sees the stars sparkle in the heavens. 

My God,” he stammers, bowing his head rev- 
erently, bless thou this house and all its inmates ; 
bless him, that beloved friend who led me to thee. 
Oh, permit me to meet him again upon earth, that 
he may comfort me in trouble and cheer me in sor- 
row. Conduct me. Lord, in safety to my dear 
mother, and, whatsoever may happen to me, oh 
let her life be precious in thy sight.” 

The young man softly descends the stairs leading 
to the lower hall. He listens to see if he can hear 
any sounds in the widow’s apartment, but every- 
thing is silentf as the grave. He reaches the front 
door, which, to his surprise, he finds to be unlocked. 
He grants himself, however, no time to speculate on 
the reason for this, but, wrapping himself in his 
cloak and drawing the rim of his hat down over 
his eyes, he hurries along the street, and soon dis- 
appears in the darkness of the night. 

Almost at the same instant there comes running 
from an opposite direction, along the same street, a 
young girl, accompanied by a man who leaves her 
when near the house. With difficulty — for she can 


288 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


scarcely go a step farther for weariness — she ascends 
the stoop and pushes open the door. As speedily 
as she can she hurries to her mother’s room, but, 
perceiving that she has fallen into a restful doze, 
she takes the lamp in her hand and hastens up 
stairs crying, 

“ Antoine Moreau ! Antoine Moreau !” 

The girl finds in the room no one but Walter 
Harmsen, who is sleeping heavily, and, uttering a 
cry on perceiving the empty glass upon the table, 
she seizes Harmsen by the arm and shakes him 
with all her might, exclaiming, 

Mr. Harmsen, where is Antoine ?” 

But neither the girl’s words nor her efforts to 
awaken Walter meet with any response. She is 
dumfounded. A soft moaning is heard in her 
mother’s room and she attempts to hurry to her 
aid, but it is impossible ; her strength departs 
from her, and she falls swooning to the floor. 

What brought Johanna to this condition ? We 
will have to go back a few hours in time and see 
what occurred in other places while Antoine and 
Walter slept. 

About the same time on that same evening that 
Walter Harmsen entered the sick-chamber of the 
widow Van Dyck, Florentius Digo was seated alone 
in his room busily engaged in rolling together some 
papers and placing them in a bag that lay upon the 
table. 


DIAMOND CUTTING DIAMOND. 


289 


‘‘Now,” he said to himself, “I am ready. It 
was well that I succeeded in getting my trunk to 
the boat while Melchior was absent from home and 
Brordus was visiting the inn. It is by no means ex- 
pedient that Melchior should know that I intend 
to leave the city so soon. The miser has an idea 
that I expect to remain yet several days, and hopes 
to get still more money out of me for his services. 
He has reckoned without his host, however. I am 
afraid, too, that Brordus will make known our 
scheme, for I believe that he overheard some of 
the conversation between Antoine and me ; at least, 
I heard his step in the courtyard when I conducted 
Antoine to the door. I trust neither Melchior nor 
Brordus : the one is eager for money to fill his 
coffers ; the other, to satisfy his thirst for beer. 
Both, therefore, can be bought over by money. In 
spite of the sum which I handed to Melchior when 
I first came — which was given without regard to 
rent, but simply to dispose him to aid me in secur- 
ing Antoine Moreau — I have no guarantee what- 
ever that he may make no attempt to obtain money 
from Mr. Paedts or Walter Harmsen, or some one 
else, by offering to betray me, and thus make both 
sides profitable to him. He is a rascal. Thus I 
will be on my guard and before nightfall try and 
leave the house quietly. But how to dismiss 
Brordus? If he should come and not find me, I 
may depend upon it that for the sake of money he 

19 


290 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


will reveal all to Melchior, and then all my trouble 
would be in vain and I must expect to be repri- 
manded by my superior. As a true son of the 
Church am I not obliged to use every effort to 
attain my ends? Must not I promote the glory 
of God and the Holy Virgin Mary by delivering 
apostates and heretics into the hands of the In- 
quisition ? Why, then, hesitate to put Brordus in 
the way of spending the whole night in his inn 
drinking beer or whatever else he wants? I will 
give him double his usual wages, with the prospect 
of earning still more subsequently. But hark ! I 
hear footsteps. It is perhaps Brordus himself.^^ 
The Jesuit was right : it was Brordus, who had 
just come from the little court, carrying a wide 
cloak on his left arm and a clothes-brush in his 
other hand. He placed the garment upon a chair 
and said familiarly. 

That was a pretty dusty job, Mr. Doctow. 
My thwoat is choked with lint and hairs, and so 
dwy as if in a yeaw not a dwop had gone down 
through it.’’ 

Drinking would be a good remedy for that 
ailment, Brordus,” said Florentius, encouragingly. 

^ Dwinking’ !” said Brordus. Yes, but that 
costs.” He made a motion with his hands as if he 
were counting money. 

Yes,” assented the Jesuit, smiling, that costs 
pence. Well, I think you have served me very 


DIAMOND CUTTING DIAMOND. 291 

honestly and industriously, and so I can afford to 
let you have an evening to yourself. Here are 
some stivers ; these will give you a chance to drink 
to my health.’^ 

Brordus opened his eyes wide when he saw the 
many shining coins lying in his hand, and in imag- 
ination he was already transported to the Full 
Vat. He did not have sufficient penetration to 
suspect that it was exactly Digo’s object to get him 
away to the Full Vat, and that he would not mind 
if he should get drowned in the vat itself. In his 
joy at the prospect of a night of unlimited beer- 
drinking he even forgot that Florentius was to 
depart this very night ; or if he thought of it, he 
tried to console himself with the idea that it would 
be for only a while. He thanked Digo and asked. 
Are there no more clothes to bwush ? Has 
the doctow nothing more for me to do to-night 
No, nothing at all,^’ assured the Jesuit ; I am 
much pleased with what you have done. I shall 
leave town before long, but I believe there was 
something I wanted you to do before my return. 
Yes, now I think of it; it is this: at least eight 
days in succession walk a short distance up the 
road to Voorschoten every morning. Remember 
well what you may see or hear. I shall pay you 
roundly for it when you meet me again.’^ 

Brordus promised to do this faithfully, bowed 
again and left the room. 


292 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Half an hour later, when the sun had set, 
Florentius Digo knocked at the door of Melchior’s 
room. The latter was busy writing ; but when he 
heard the knock, he hastily concealed a note which 
he had copied from another, left lying upon the 
table. The • contents of each of these missives 
were as follows : 

Antoine Moreau is being enticed to go to Cour- 
tray; if bearer of this is given five and twenty 
florins, you will immediately be informed who is 
the person who has been ^making this attempt, and 
who is about to succeed in it.” 

Come in !” called Melchior. 

The Jesuit entered the apartment, which was light- 
ed by one small lamp only, for Melchior was of the 
opinion that one person was not in need of quite so 
much light as were two or three. Florentius ap- 
proached his landlord hat in hand and wished him 
Good-evening,” while Melchior offered him a 
chair. 

You doubtless surmise the reason of my visit,” 
began the Jesuit, looking sharply at his accomplice, 
as if seeking to read the effect of his ’words upon 
the latter’s countenance. 

No,” replied Melchior, feigning ignorance ; 
but if my aid is required, I am ready for any- 
thing.” 

^^Oh, I am aware of that,” said Digo, coolly, 
especially if — ” 


DIAMOND CUTTING DIAMOND. 


293 


If there is something to be made by it, you 
would say,’^ interrupted Melchior, smiling ; but 
that need not surprise you/’ 

“ Not at all,” observed the Jesuit, indifferently. 

I must have a chance to earn something once 
in a while,” continued Melchior. am getting 
old, and the chances are getting rarer. And if I 
have not these, what must I live from? People 
imagine that I have much money, but they are 
sadly mistaken. I am sometimes in great straits, 
and was thus very glad lately when you came to 
rent rooms of me. I trust you do not leave very 
soon ?” 

It cannot be long before I will have to leave 
you,” replied Pigo, who had no mind to tell his 
landlord how soon it would be. You know that 
we have nearly attained our end : Antoine Moreau 
has resolved to go with me.” 

“ And might there not be some one who could 
detain him?” asked Melchior, slyly. 

^ Might there not be some one’ ?” replied Flo- 
rentius. Who can tell what some one might not 
do ? But I have taken my measures, and with the 
help of the saints they will succeed.” 

But suppose they should fail,” suggested Mel- 
chior. What then ?” 

I should like to see the man,” said the Jesuit, 
with emphasis, who would cause the failure.” 

I would not like to say that I had it in mind 


294 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


myself to cause your failure/’ said Melchior, but 
yet I can see that in the way there are obstacles 
which it would be best for you to remove.” 

The Jesuit understood perfectly what Melchior 
meant, but he was determined to let him make his 
extortionate propositions without prompting his cu- 
pidity by seeming to accede before he made them. 

‘‘To what obstacles do you refer?” he asked, 
innocently. 

“ Payment for my trouble.” 

“ Payment to you ? Did I not pay you in 
advance for the use of your rooms ? And are you 
not bound by the rules of our order to assist me in 
the attempt to attain our ends, even to the sacrifice 
of money and of goods? What more can you 
require ?” 

“ You are mistaken, worthy sir,” said Melchior ; 
“ I am bound to nothing. Out of respect to your 
order I have been ready to assist you, but you 
Flemings forget the Dutch proverb : ‘ You can’t 
make the chimney smoke with nothing.’ ” 

“ What, then, do you wish ?” inquired the Jesuit. 

“Fifty florins for my trouble, my night’s rest 
and the use of my apothecary utensils.” 

Florentius remained as unmoved as if somethine: 
quite ordinary were passing between them ; not a 
feature changed. 

“ ‘ Fifty florins ’ !” he observed. “ And suppose 
I refuse to give you this amount?” 


DIAMOND CUTTING DIAMOND. 


296 


Then will this note be handed to the persons 
interested.” With these words he pushed the paper 
that lay near him toward the Jesuit, who read it 
without sign of emotion. 

And to whom would you hand this ?” he asked, 
told you — to the persons interested.” 

‘^But who would object to see a son return to 
his mother?” 

Such as suspect that behind this mother there 
lurks a prison. I am sure that Mr. Walter Harm- 
sen — ” 

Oh, I have nothing to fear from him,” said the 
Jesuit; he has neither power nor influence, 
belonging to no party in the land.” 

But he is by no means without influence : he is 
intimate with the sherilf, and is held in great esteem 
by the family of Marnix.” 

Those arch-heretics ?” exclaimed Florentius. 

That they may be, but none the less capable of 
interfering with your plans. Besides, Mr. John 
Paedts — ” 

And would you hand this note to either of the 
persons you have mentioned ?” 

“ Yes, unless you purchased it from me.” 

For how much ?” \ 

Fifty florins.” . 

“That is pretty dear paper,” saidT Florentius, 
jestingly. “I tell you I will give you the half of 
that for it.” 


296 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Melchior reflected a moment, and concluded that 
half a loaf was better than no bread.* 

Very well,” he said; ‘‘then I promise not to 
hand this note to anybody.” 

“I will pay you the money this very night,” 
said Florentius, rising and putting on his hat. “ I 
trust you will have the kindness to accompany me 
once more upon a botanical excursion ; I am in 
need of certain flowers which if picked at night 
have a special virtue. Will you go with me?” 

“ Certainly I will go. Perhaps, if the experi- 
ment succeeds, I will not go for naught.” 

“ Miser !” was Digo’s indignant thought, but he 
said audibly, “ Will you be ready at midnight ?” 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“Well, then, till by and by,” said the Jesuit, 
who withdrew, saying to himself, “To get that 
money he will have to be more cunning than he is.” 

After Florentius Digo had left tlie little back 
room, Melchior drew the other paper which con- 
tained the same words from the drawer, and mut- 
tered to himself, 

“ What a fine thing it is for a man to have a con- 
science ! Now, my conscience forbids me to hand 
the other paper to the persons interested, but this 
note did not come into question. I will keep it 
safe; it may be of use.” 

* The Dutch proverb reads, “ Half an egg is better than an 
empty shell.” 


CHAPTEK XXVIII. 

THE APOTHECARY OUTWITTED. 

S HOETLY after midnight two men wrapped in 
cloaks passed through the Maare gate out into 
the open country, and after reaching a piece of 
woods busied themselves for about three-quarters 
of an hour in gathering, by the aid of a small lan- 
tern, several specimens of such common plants as 
taraxacum, tussilago, and others. Xo one could 
appear more absorbed in this occupation than 
Florentius Bigo, who had collected several bun- 
dles. Melchior also was diligent. He was down 
upon both knees, and was ambitious to get as large 
a bunch as possible of these herbs. Suddenly the 
lantern was upset and extinguished and Melchior 
thrown headlong to the ground. He was prevented 
from crying out by Digo^s forcing his face with all 
his might into the sand. Though wildly beating 
and kicking with arms and legs, he could not pre- 
vent Florentius from binding these limbs fast with 
a stout cord ; and when he was secured in this man- 
•ner, Digo pushed a gag into his mouth, turned him 
on his back and dragged him beneath a tree. 

297 


298 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Melchior, thus rendered helpless, trembled with 
rage ; and if the countenance of the whilom apoth- 
ecary had been visible, it would have appeared of a 
livid red. 

My friend,” whispered Florentius, in the most 
insinuating of tones, I am sorry that I was com- 
])elled to resort to a measure like this, and I trust 
that the Holy Virgin will forgive me, but you 
forced me to this alternative. Our order forbids 
taking any person’s life when he may be made 
otherwise incapable of interfering with our designs. 
You appeared to be disposed to prevent Antoine Mo- 
reau from accompanying me, and, since by com- 
mand of my superior I was obliged to secure this 
result at all hazards, I have simply put you out of 
condition to accompany me back to the city. I may 
possibly need your services again at some future 
time, but I hope you will give me less trouble. 
To show you that I bear you no ill-will, I will wrap 
your cloak carefully about you, to protect you from 
the dampness of the night-air. Should you, how- 
ever, to-morrow suffer from the evil effects of this 
exposure, you are aware that a concoction of lic- 
orice and sweet-wood is an excellent remedy for a 
cold. Lean quietly against the trunk of this tree 
and try to sleep. A few more hours and it will be 
daybreak, when some passer-by will ere long relieve 
you. Be assured, in the mean time, that I will re- 
member you in my prayers. Farewell !” 


THE APOTHECARY OUTWITTED. 299 


Melchior made desperate attempts to give vent to 
his wrath, but could not produce a sound. Address- 
ing him once more, Florentius wished him a good 
night’s rest and disappeared among the trees. 

The Jesuit’s wish was destined not to be fulfilled 
so far as it referred to Melchior’s rest during this 
night. The whilom apothecary spared no effort to 
rid himself of his bonds. It was not long before 
he discovered, as he rolled about on the ground, a 
large stone with a sharp edge; by rubbing the 
cords that bound his feet over this a few times he 
succeeded in severing them. Next, restored to free- 
dom in his lower extremities, he was enabled to place 
his back over the stone in such a way as to make 
it perform the same office for the cord that held his 
arms behind him, but this process was much more 
toilsome than the former one, as he was compelled 
to move his whole body. The perspiration poured 
from his forehead in streams, and he was compelled 
to take frequent intervals of rest. At last, however, 
this effort also was successful, and he regained 
the use of his arms. He now sprang to his feet, 
removed the gag from his mouth and bethought 
him what was to be done. Lighting the lantern, 
he retraced his steps to the road and with all his 
might ran back to the city. 

Whither shall I first betake myself to circum- 
vent this rascal?” he muttered as he ran. ^^To 
Mr. Harmsen? But I do not know just where he 


300 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


lives. To the bookseller Paedts? But it is past 
midnight. Yet never mind that. Suppose I go 
straight to the sheriff? But then I lose my 
twenty-five florins. I care not, if I can show this 
rogue that Melchior knows how to revenge him- 
self. But hark ! What did I hear ?” 

While deliberating the apothecary had passed 
into the city through the Maare gate, and was 
therefore at no great distance from the house of 
the widow Van Dyck. He heard voices, and, 
running to the spot whence they proceeded, he found 
Brordus Groot lying on the pavement and Johanna 
standing by his side. The widow’s daughter had 
gone to Melchior’s house in the hope of inducing 
the foreign doctor to come over to the assistance 
of her mother, who had had another attack of 
coughing, but, no one answering her knocks, she 
was on her way back, when she encountered 
Brordus, who had become a ‘^full vat” himself. 
The messenger of the Jesuit with difliculty kept 
his footing, and at last had fallen to the ground. 
Johanna almost fell over him, and did not at first 
recognize him. 

“Who are you ?” she asked. 

“ I — I — I am Willebwoddus Gwoothuwwel- 
bwink,” hiccuped the drunkard. “I have been 
dwinking the health of the doctow. A fine man !” 

“But where is the doctor?” inquired Johanna. 
“ I was ati his house, and did not find him in.” 


THE APOTHECARY OUTWITTED. 301 


Yes, yes stammered Brordus, trying to get 
up on his feet. Yes, yes ! Where is the doctow ? 
Flown, and the miser don’t get a penny. But I 
— I get a lot when the doctow comes back.” 

When is he coming back?” inquired Johanna, 
grieved to lose this chance of relief to her mother. 

When ? I don’t know. Ask Mr. Moweau, 
who — ” 

^ Moreau ’ !” exclaimed Johanna. “ What does 
Mr. Moreau know about him ?” 

The drunkard screamed with laughter. Just at 
this point arrived Melchior, not a little surprised to 
find these two conversing here. 

“What does he know about him? Why, he 
went along — along to Courtway.” 

“ ‘ To Courtray ’ ?” exclaimed Johanna, in great 
consternation. “You are mistaken. Antoine Mo- 
reau is sick — very sick — and Mr. Walter Harmsen 
is watching by his bed.” 

Brordus laughed aloud. 

“ Mr. Walter Harmsen watching ? With whom ? 
With a bird which has flown? Wrong, wrong! 
He has dwank a few dwops which will make him 
forget how to watch with people. Go home, 
and you will find the nest empty and a sleeping 
watcher.” 

“ The drunken fellow is right, miss,” said Melchior, 
who now understood why the Jesuit had surprised 
and bound him, and also remembered the medicine 


302 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD, 


upon which Florentius had bestowed such care the 
preceding night. Antoine Moreau has doubtless 
gone with the doctor. I will conduct you back to 
your house and then institute some measures for 
appreliending this — Rascal he said between his 
teeth. This doctor/^ he continued. 

Johanna hurried home in great anxiety, accom- 
panied by Melchior as far as her house, while 
they left Brord us to sleep out his drunken revel. W e 
have seen what Johanna found on her return home. 

It was a night of grief, disappointment, despair. 
Melchior went first to the house of Mr. Paedts, 
and with the latter to the sheriff. The three then 
betook themselves to the house of the widow Van 
Dyck, where they found Walter Harmsen still 
plunged in profound slumber. With some diffi- 
culty they succeeded in waking him, and it need 
not be said what were his emotions when he was 
informed of the circumstances. Upon the table lay 
the two volumes of the pocket-Bible which Antoine 
had left behind him. Walter involuntarily opened 
one of them, and then discovered upon the fly-leaf 
next to the cover the following words : 

I must see my mother again. Keep this Bible 
as a reminder of me. Farewell ! Pray for me 

Walter put both volumes in his pocket and im- 
mediately proceeded to the Maare gate, accompa- 
nied by Mr. Paedts and the sheriff, but they were 
too late. The bird had flown. 


CHAPTER XXrX. 

THE PRISON OF THE INQUISITION. 

T he reader is invited to transport himself in 
imagination to the city of Tournay, situated in 
the province of Hainault, Belgium, at a distance of 
some fifty or sixty miles south-west of Brussels. 
The city is a very ancient one, and has sustained 
many remarkable sieges. 

Not far from the old parochial church of Saint 
Bric4 there stood at the time of our story a large 
building with a low tower attached. It had prob- 
ably served in former times as one of the defences 
of the city, for it had much the appearance of a 
fort or redoubt. It was an ancient structure, its 
walls thick and lofty, surrounded by a moat and 
provided with embrasures. Standing on the oppo- 
site side of the wide moat and allowing the eyes to 
rest upon those high walls of gray stone, with their 
narrow apertures for windows or air-holes, the 
observer would feel an involuntary shiver pass 
through him, for his inevitable impression would 
be that this was a prison. And this was indeed 
the case. The building was known as the bishop’s 

303 


304 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


prison or the prison of the Inquisition, for in earlier 
days many a victim of religious persecution had 
here been confined, to be released only by a death 
of torture ; and the authorities of the Church still 
found occasion once in a while to put it to its for- 
mer use, although offenders of other classes also 
were imprisoned here at the time of which we 
are writing. 

Through a wide gate in one of the outer walls, to 
which access was had by means of a drawbridge, 
one entered into a court which was occupied by a 
guard of soldiers. Crossing this court, one arrived 
at a second gate, covered with iron plates, which 
opened upon a wide, vaulted and dark hall. To 
the right, on the ground-floor, were living-apart- 
ments occupied by the jailer and his assistant and 
the commander of the guard. To the left, about 
ten paces from the entrance of the hall, a stone 
archway led into a second hall, at the end of which 
was a door, also fortified with iron plates and heav- 
ily barred. This door gave access to a stone stair- 
case about twenty steps high. At the top of these 
stairs was a dark vestibule somewhat in the shape 
of a horseshoe, upon which several doors opened. 
Above one of these was cut the inscription. 

Hall of Justice of the Holy Inquisition.” 
This hall was a large, circular apartment, being the 
second story of the round tower noticed above. 
But few articles of furniture were here to be seen 


THE PRISON OF THE INQUISITION. 305 


— large oaken table, around which were ranged 
ten high-backed arm-chairs, and not far from this 
table a smaller one, upon which stood a rude stone 
crucifix. Back of this table there was a low door- 
way opening into another circular apartment without 
window or aperture of any kind which could admit 
the light of day ; from the low ceiling hung a small 
brass lamp which could at best afford but a feeble 
radiance. Dark as it was in this room, the light 
from the larger hall, as one opened the door, was 
sufficient to reveal to the view objects well calculat- 
ed to excite the horror of the visitor. Iron collars 
and chains were riveted into the wall ; several 
thumb-screws, branding-irons and pincers lay in 
a square chest; while the rack, with its wooden 
rollers, stood in the centre. Out from this torture- 
chamber, where the victims of the Inquisition were 
wont to be examined and tried for their lives, one 
could pass by another door back into the dark ves- 
tibule above mentioned. In the left corner a second 
stone staircase, narrower and higher than the first, 
led up by thirty steps to a long hall. Two heavy 
iron doors on one side of this upper hall opened 
into the corridors which conducted to the cells 
where the victims of the Inquisition were impris- 
oned. 

More than three months after the occurrences de- 
scribed in the preceding chapter two men might 
have been seen ascending the high stone staircase 
20 


306 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


leadiDg from the dark vestibule to the cells above. 
One of the two was very corpulent in person, and 
his face indicated extraordinary dullness of mind. 
In his hand he held an iron ring with several 
large keys, and he groaned frequently beneath the 
weight of his own body, as well as of that which 
he was cariying. The other man was considerably 
smaller of person, and we have no difficulty in at 
once recognizing in him our friend Joris Ruikmans, 
even though we had not learned that Joris had es- 
caped to these parts to be rid of Dame Ruikmans’s 
epistle-reading,” and had found employment in this 
very prison. He was carrying two loaves of coarse 
bread under his left arm, and an earthen bottle of 
water in his hand. 

I tell you this is a pretty hard climb,” said the 
fat man, who was the jailer, seating himself upon 
a step about halfway up the staircase. I do not 
understand why His Excellency Philip Derot has 
put the heretic up so high. Such fellows go direct- 
ly to hell, at any rate, and therefore it would have 
been better to have put him in one of the lower 
cells, for that would have been closer to his future 
dwelling-place.” 

I do not find it so hard to go up stairs,” ob- 
served Joris, likewise seating himself. “But I 
think the reverend judges were very wise to put 
that heretic so high up ; there he is high and dry, 
and cannot possibly escape unless he can crawl 


THE PRISON OF THE INQUISITION. 307 


through the air-hole near the top of the wall of 
his cell/’ 

“A fine thing!” said the fat man, wiping the 
perspiration from his face. He escape? What 
are you thinking of? Have you forgotten that 
the air-hole looks out upon the moat, and that it is 
provided with thick iron bars ? Besides, is he not 
chained to the wall? How, then, could he get 
away ? He cannot possibly esca})e unless he is in 
league with the evil one, and St. Joseph prevent 
that !” 

The jailer crossed himself reverently three sev- 
eral times, as if he feared that even the thought of 
him might cause a personal contact with His Sa- 
tanic Majesty. 

What are chains to a heretic?” asked Joris, 
contemptuously. With a little file chains and 
bars can soon be cut through.” 

The jailer became red in the face with vexation 
at this suggestion of his assistant. 

“ Stupid fellow !” he broke out. How is that 
heretic going to get at any files? Do you not 
know that when he came here he was stripped as 
naked as Adam when in Paradise ? Everything was 
taken from him. And who would provide him 
with files now ? Not I, surely ; for you know 
that I am answerable with my head for his safe- 
keeping. I cannot sleep at night at the very idea 
of his escaping, and to be sure that he is safe in the 


308 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


daytime I take the trouble to go up four times a 
day to see that he is in his cell. No one can get at 
him but myself, for I hold the key to his cell ; that 
key goes not out of my hand for a single minute, 
and at night I put it under my pillow. Who, 
then, is going to bring him a file, or anything 
of that sort?’’ 

“ Yes, that is Avhat I say too,” replied Joris, 
who replaced the loaves carefully under his arm, 
as if he feared something might drop from them. 

That must be a sly fox who will fetch him any- 
thing of that sort.” 

Well said, Joris ! or, rather, it must be a smart 
man who can cheat me, for you know I am pret- 
ty sharp, and whoever wants to fool me will have 
to get up very early iu the morning.” The latter 
expression he repeated twice, and laughed heart- 
ily, as if fully satisfied with his abilities as jailer. 

Joris looked at the round, fat face of his superior, 
but said nothing. 

was just thinking,” said the jailer, after rest- 
ing a few minutes longer, how merciful our holy 
Inquisition has been in its treatment of this 
heretic.” 

‘‘How so?” asked Joris, with a look and tone 
of voice as if he found some difficulty iu reconcil- 
ing this opinion with the facts. 

“ Why, because, instead of burning or hanging 
him in public or putting him to the rack, they let 


THE PRISON OF THE INQUISITION 309 


him sit here at his ease. That is all expense for 
nothing; he has to be kept in board — 

“ Well, that .does not come to so very much,^’ 
interrupted the manikin. ^^Two loaves of coarse 
bread a week and a bottle of water every three 
days : I cannot say he will grow very fat on that.^^ 
^‘No, I do not believe he will,^^ assented the 
jailer. ^^But, according to my view, it is much 
better to make short work with such people ; then 
we would be spared much care and trouble. For 
it is no fun to clamber up these stairs four times a 
day. I do not see the use of it.” 

But I have heard,” said Joris, “ that this is an 
exceptional case. Did not the Inquisition promise 
his mother not to put him to death publicly, on 
which condition she bequeathed all her wealth to 
the Church?” 

Yes, that may be so,” said the fat man, “ but 
some other means of getting rid of him and getting 
around that promise might have been found besides 
letting him die of slow starvation. I have orders 
to lessen his allowance by a little every week. 
How lean that heretic will get ! But come,” he 
continued, rising and picking up the keys; ^^we 
have rested long enough. Let us go up and finish 
this job. So much the sooner shall we be down 
again.” 

Groaning and muttering as he went, the jailer 
addressed himself to the remainder of the ascent. 


310 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


stumbling with his foot against almost every step. 
When at last they reached the upper hall, Joris 
and he went to the farther one of the two doors. 
Passing through this into the corridor beyond, they 
soon stopped before one of the cells. The jailer 
placed his ear against the door and whispered to 
Joris : 

He seems to be asleep ; everything is as still as 
a mouse inside. How is it possible- that a heretic 
can sleep, especially after having been pretty well 
stretched on the rack a few days ago ? But hark ! 
now I hear him rattle the chain. It must be from 
the itching of his wounds, for Simon, the execu- 
tioner, tickled him pretty severely.’’ 

With these heartless words the fat man put the 
key into the lock, and the door turned creaking 
upon its hinges. This gave access to a small square 
vestibule totally dark. 

Draw the slide, Joris,” said the jailer, and 
call the heretic this way. I will turn myself, for I 
do not want to look at him ; I might be poisoned 
by the sight of him. Hand him the bottle and 
the two loaves, but shut the slide immediately 
after. Do you understand?” 

Certainly,” replied the manikin, who held the 
loaves under his arm while he sat down the bottle 
in order to open a slide in the inner door of the 
cell. 

“Do not be so long,” said the jailer, turning 


THE PRISON OF THE INQUISITION 311 

away his head. Hurry up ! The heretic does 
not deserve that we waste so much time on him.” 

Joris opened the slide, through which poured the 
light from the cell, which was introduced into the 
latter by means of a round aperture high up in the 
wall, opposite the door. 

Here !” called Joris through the opening. 

The clanking of a chain which the jailer had 
heard a moment before became louder. A young 
man rose from a stone bench and came to the door, 
dragging the chain, which only just permitted him 
to reach it. His countenance was deadly pale and 
excessive suffering had graven deep lines upon cheeks 
and forehead, but nevertheless in this youth we rec- 
ognize none other than Antoine Moreau. 

Here is a bottle of water — ” began Joris. 

‘^Tell him to be careful of it,” said the jailer, 
with averted face, as after this he will get it only 
once every three days ” 

Joris passed the bottle through the opening, and 
the prisoner reached out for it with his emaciated 
hands and set it u23on the floor. At the same time, 
as if by accident or clumsiness, Joris let the loaves 
fall from his hands after passing them through the 
slide, and said in a vexed tone. 

There ! that is for you to eat, you heretic !” 

‘‘ But,” said the fat man when he had heard the 
loaves fall, “ he must eat moderately, for he has to 
do a whole week with them.” 


312 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD, 


I thank God/^ said the prisoner, that he has 
taught me to be content with little, and the apostle 
Paul—’’ , 

“ Joris, shut the slide ! Shut the slide quick !” 
cried the jailer, clapping his hands over his ears. 
“ Do you not hear the heretic talking ? He poisons 
us. The slide! the slide ! Quick!” 

The manikin did as he was ordered, but not 
before he had taken occasion to call the prisoner’s 
attention to one of the loaves, at the same time 
making a significant gesture with his finger. Then 
the two men stepped into the corridor and the jailer 
locked the outer door. As they descended to their 
own apartments the fat official indulged in the 
pleasantry. 

Well, he will be likely to forget the taste of 
tarts and pastries before long.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


A 3rOTHER’S DEATH-BED. 

NTOINE MOREAU was thus a prisoner and 



at the mercy of the Inquisition. Truly, he 
had cherished other expectations than those of being 
confined between walls and behind doors which were 
seldom opened except when those held captive 
by them were carried to the grave. In the glad 
hope of seeing her whom he loved as his life he 
had hastened to her embrace, but how sadly had he 
been disappointed ! After a journey beset by great 
difficulties, and during which he and his companion, 
by reason of the confusion existing in the relations 
between the northern and the southern Netherlands, 
were frequently compelled to conceal themselves by 
day and travel only by night, they at length reached 
the neighborhood of Courtray. To his sorrow, An- 
toine had noticed that the supposed doctor would 
never enter into any conversation about the love of 
Jesus and communion with him. The only subject 
which seemed greatly to interest Elorentius Digo 
was that of the Reformation, and, as the youthful 
printer was an ardent advocate of that cause, the 


313 


314 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


conferences were very lively, especially on the side 
of Antoine Moreau. The Jesuit on these occasions, 
with characteristic shrewdness and faithful to the 
society to which he was devoted heart and soul, 
made it his business to lure on the unsuspecting 
and enthusiastic youth into statements and decla- 
rations of opinion or belief which were to be used 
against liim with deadly force. Little did Antoine 
suppose that he was placing in the hands of his 
enemies fearful weapons which they would not be 
slow to use for his destruction. 

The nearer Courtray was approached, the more 
burning became Antoine’s longing to see his moth- 
er. Just at evening of a certain day the city was 
entered ; now but a few hours, and he would be 
with her. 

Do you think, doctor,” he asked as he aud the 
Jesuit were ascending a hill from the summit of 
which he could discern the steeple of the village 
church of his native place — do you think mother 
is still living?” 

I am very sure of it,” the other replied. 

How she will rejoice to see me !” exclaimed 
Antoine, stretching out his arms toward the beloved 
home, ^‘and how happy will I be to press her to 
my heart! — Oh, my dear, dear mother I — Come, 
doctor, let us hurry. It is with me as with the 
soul that David describes in the psalm : I am faint 
with longing.” His eyes filled with tears. 


A MOTHER DEATH-BED. 


315 


For some time Antoine and tlie Jesuit pursued 
their way in silence, but suddenly there crossed the 
mind of the youth a thought which sickened him 
with dread. He turned to Florentius Digo with 
strong emotion depicted in his countenance, as 
before, but heightened by an aj)prehension of 
danger which was new to it and had not been 
noticed by the Jesuit during all the journey. Seiz- 
ing his companion’s arm, Antoine inquired eagerly, 

Doctor, do you know Father Benedictus ?” 

The practiced features of the Jesuit betrayed no 
sign of the inward consternation that took hold of 
him, for he feared that the youth at last suspected 
his real character, and that this was a leading 
question to test the suspicion. Nevertheless, he 
spoke with the utmost calmness as he replied : 

Father Benedictus, did you say? Yes, I have 
heard him mentioned. What do you mean ?” 

I mean that he is my enemy.” 

Come, come ! do not think of that now. It 
was but yesterday that you told me you did not 
fear the future, and that you place your trust in 
the Lord. Show this now.” 

Yes, I will do so. Come, doctor, let us go on.” 

It was not long ere the village of Monne was 
entered. Antoine led the way straight to the well- 
known house. To his surprise, a number of people 
stood about the door. 

‘^What means this?” he asked of a man who 


316 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


was unknown to him, and who seemed to be on 
guard at the door. 

^^The clergy are in the sick-room/^ was the 
reply. Madame Moreau is receiving the supreme 
unction of our holy Church, for she is dyiug.’^ 

Antoine uttered a cry, pushed aside the man, who 
sought to detain him, and entered the house. He 
looked around for Florentius Higo, but the latter 
had disaj)peared. 

The hall was filled with people — choir-boys, 
assistants at the altar, and others — holding burning 
tapers in their hands. Antoine did not permit any 
one to detain him, but hastened to the chamber 
where his mother lay dying. Arrived there, he 
wished to force his way to her bedside; but this 
was impossible, for, first, the room was so full of 
persons that he could penetrate no farther than the 
door, and, further, it would not do to interrupt the 
solemnity which was in progress. He therefore 
lifted his head as high as he could that nothing 
might escape his eye. What met his glance? 
Madame Moreau lay upon her bed; a little lamp 
suspended from the ceiling cast its feeble light 
upon her pale features. Two priests, one of whom 
was at once recognized by Antoine as Father Bene- 
dictus — stood at the right side of the bedstead, 
while the daughter of the dying woman knelt near 
her. It seemed that the last sacrament had been 
administered, and that she was now left to take 


A MOTHER’S DEATH-BED. 


317 


some repose; but, although repose of body was 
thus afforded her, her mind seemed ill at ease. 
She raised herself and said in broken sentences, 

I keep you to your word — reverend sir ; you 
will not- — touch his life. Perhaps — he may be — 
won back — from his errors — by gentleness and — 
love.’’ 

Set your mind at rest,” was the soothing reply 
of Father Benedictus; ^^we shall keep to our 
agreement, and shall do all that can possibly be 
done, according both to your wish and to mine, to 
reclaim him ; and howsoever obstinate he may be, 
still, should we get him among us again, we shall 
not put him to death.” 

These assurances seemed, indeed, to pacify the 
dying lady, but a moment after she said. 

Is it probable that I shall see him again before 
I die?” 

Mother,” said her daughter, reproachfully, 
how can you let your thoughts occupy themselves 
with this apostate in your last hour? Think, rath- 
er, about me — about your own soul.” 

Marie,” sighed the dying woman, you know 
not how I love him. He was lost and found again, 
and that finding was like a second birth, and those 
six years of aching anxiety endeared him ten 
hundred fold. And never has he ceased to love 
his mother — always most tenderly devoted. Oh 
that I might see him once again — but once !” 


318 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


He may come yet,” whispered Beuedictus. 

Perhaps he has come. Oh, my son ! Antoine, 
my son, my son cried the sufferer. 

The broken sentences, even this last cry, had been 
too feeble to reach Antoine. The daughter now 
laid her hand upon the lips of her dying mother. 

^^Do not pronounce that name, mother,^^ she 
said, bitterly ; he is a heretic and must not be 
named in the presence of our clergy. Be silent 
and pray what Father Benedictus will tell you.” 

But the mother could not be silenced ; as the 
moment approached when her spirit must leave 
the body the anxiety and yearning of her heart 
became the more irrepressible. Spreading out her 
hands, she called, in a voice distinctly audible 
throughout the room, 

“ My son ! My son Antoine !” 

The last words reached the eai’s of the youth, 
who uttered a cry and pushed his way through the 
throng. 

Madame Moreau, on her part, had caught her 
son’s cry ; she lifted her eyes and turned them in 
the direction whence it came, saying, 

“ The voice of my son !” 

Mother, mother !” exclaimed Antoine, forcing 
his way to her bedside. “ Mother, I am here — I, 
your son !” Pie fell on his knees by her side, 
clasped the hands of the dying woman in his own 
and pressed a kiss upon her pale lips. 


Antoine at his Miniior’s 














w. 



L 


“k. 







1 


^ . .A 






I 




• ^ 


( 


A MOTHER’S DEATH-BED. 


319 


At the same instant Marie sprang to her feet, 
and with the cry, '' A heretic ! a heretic retreated 
as far as possible from the bed. 

The two priests saw Antoine’s approach, but did 
not hinder it; on the contrary, one whispered to 
the other, 

Ha ! Florentiiis Digo has, then, succeeded in 
placing this heretic in our power. Look to it that 
he does not escape us.” 

“My son,” stammered Jeanne Moreau, “I am 
glad that — I can see you — once more — before I 
die. I believe that this — will soon happen. I feel 
that — ” 

“ Mother,” said Antoine, who had risen and was 
bending over her, “do you die in peace?” 

The dying woman made no answer. 

One of the priests now drew near to push 
Antoine away. 

“ Oh, mother,” exclaimed the youth, “ is it for 
this I was to return and see you die? Oh, tell 
me: is your trust in Jesus?” 

' The priest laid his hand upon Antoine’s shoulder, 
but the latter would not be diverted from his pur- 
pose; the salvation of his beloved mother was at 
stake. 

The dying woman heaved a deep sigh, and that 
sigh was “ Jesus !” In a moment came back to her 
impressions received years ago, while she was with 
those who had preserved and restored her child to 


320 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


her. Something of that experience of a personal 
Saviour and a direct connection on his part with 
her life came back to her as she had described it 
to her friend the Lady Jacoba. Long had it been 
obscured by the ceremonies and errors of the papal 
Church, but in this supreme moment, in the happi- 
ness of having her son with her and reviving the 
sense of God's providential nearness, that precious- 
uess of an own and only Saviour illuminated her 
mind and quickened her heart. 

Antoine pressed Christ upon her thoughts. 

^^Yes, dear mother,’^ he said, ^Gook to Jesus. 
Oh, believe in him. He loves you. Call on him 
— call now. Say, ‘ Lord Jesus, accept me ” 

“ Lord — Jesus — ac — ” and with that prayer, 
unfinished on the lips, but fully felt in the soul and 
seen by God, she breathed her last. 

Antoine threw himself upon her lifeless form 
and burst iuto tears. 

In the same instant a cart stopped in front of 
the house, and shortly after there was a movement 
among the crowd in that chamber of death. Rev- 
erently they drew aside and made way for a man 
who, followed by a clergyman, approached the bed 
by the side of which knelt Antoine. 

“ Antoine Moreau f ’ spoke this man, with pene- 
trating voice, laying his hand upon the youth’s 
shoulder. 

Antoine turned; there stood before him Philip 


A MOTHEH^S DEATH-BED. 


321 


Derot, superior of the Jesuits, the highest judge of 
the Inquisition. 

Antoine Moreau, he said, ^^in the name of 
the Inquisition you are my prisoner.” 

Antoine was struck by a momentary dread, but 
it was only for a moment ; for now that the Lord 
had })ermitted him to see his mother again, and 
even to hear her call in faith upon the name of 
Jesus, it was a matter of indifference to him what 
became of himself. He rose to his feet, and, look- 
ing Philip Derot fearlessly in the face, he demanded, 
‘^For what cause am I your prisoner?” 

You are a heretic.” 

A heretic ! a heretic !” resounded through the 
room, while many hastily crossed themselves. 

“la heretic?” responded Antoine. “By the 
grace of God I am his child. Look to yourself 
that you do not draw down upon your own head 
the judgment of the Lord.” 

“Men,” cried Philip Derot, to whom this ex- 
change of words was extremely distasteful for many 
reasons — “ men, apprehend this heretic. Take him 
to the cart and convey him to Tournay.” 

A number of soldiers, who had come with the 
cart, entered the room and seized Antoine, though 
not before he had im])rinted one last kiss upon the 
marble forehead of his mother. He allowed him- 
self to be bound and led away without a struggle. 
At the door he passed his sister. 

21 


322 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


Marie/’ he said, remember that some time you 
must appear before the judgment-seat of Christ. 
He will be your Saviour now; cast your idols 
away from you and flee to him.” 

Heretic ! heretic !” she cried, stopping her ears. 

‘‘Away with him !” commanded Pliilip Derot. 

The soldiers ])ushed Antoine out of the house. 
By means of the torchlight he recognized a man 
wlio seemed desirous of remaining unnoticed. 

“ Tims you have been my betrayer !” said An- 
toine. “AVhat will be your reward?” 

“ Salv\ation for }>reserving a soul,” replied Flo- 
rentius Digo, who then hastily retired. 

Antoine, with four of the soldiei’s, ascended the 
cart, the others surrounding it as a guard, and the 
journey to Tournay was begun. The next day he 
was placed in the prison where we have discovered 
him. From the moment that he had entered the 
prison the clergy had given him no rest. His 
body had been placed on the rack and tortured, to 
force him to name those who had persuaded him to 
embrace heretical opinions or to make him abjure 
those opinions and promise to return to the bosom 
of the Romish Church. But his tormentors met 
with no success. Now it had finally been resolved 
to let him slowly die of hunger and of thirst. 

And Florentius Digo (jailed this the 2)rese^'vation 
of a soul! 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A LOAF OF BREAD. 


A NTOINE MOREAU was seated upon the 
stone bench in his cell. Behind him was 
a niche which had been cut into the wall, and upon 
the projecting slab that formed the bottom of this 
niche he had placed the loaves which Joris had let 
fall through the slide. The stone bottle filled with 
water stood at his feet, and he had at once taken a 
liberal draught from it, because he suffered from an 
almost intolerable thirst. He would gladly have 
drank more, were it not that he had been warned to 
be sparing in the use of his bread and water. 

This warning was but too well founded. We 
have learned, as well from the conversation between 
the jailer and Joris as from what took place at the 
death-bed of Madame Jeanne Moreau, that the 
Jesuits were compelled to restrict themselves to 
torture and imprisonilient in regard to this victim, 
and were not at liberty to execute him in public. 
On this condition alone had Jeanne Moreau con- 
sented to write to her son the letter with which 
the Jesuit Florentius Digo had been sent to Leyden, 

323 


324 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


to ensnare therewith the fondly-devoted youth. 
The Inquisition thus had not scrupled to make use 
of a son’s affection in order to effect the purposes 
of its hatred, and the act of the mother was to be 
deplored in allowing herself to be deluded into deliv- 
ering her own son into the hands of his enemies. 
But, alas ! to what extremes may not religious 
hatred and erroneous views sometimes conduct 
people ! Still, Madame Moreau had had no peace 
after the act, and in the hour of death she demanded 
the repetition of the assurance that her son would 
not be put to death. 

The Inquisition — for what reason has not clearly 
been ascertained, for in other cases it kept or 
violated its word as circumstances might dictate — 
strictly held itself to the promise made. All 
public trial and public execution had been avoided, 
but in secret it allowed itself the more license to 
trouble and torment the unfortunate youth. Not 
only had provision been made that Antoine should 
be slowly starved to death, but care was taken that 
he should in no way escape. Loaded with a chain 
which was riveted into the wall, the prison-keeper 
had been made personally responsible for Antoine’s 
safekeeping, and hence this official was compelled 
to undertake that arduous duty of climbing the 
two staircases and looking through the slide of 
the inner cell-door to convince himself that the 
prisoner was within. This had now been going on 


A LOAF OF BREAD. 


325 


for more than three months, and it need not be 
told how often the Jesuits had troubled Antoine 
with their visits and their disputes. He had also 
suffered greatly in body. As he sat there upon the 
stone bench he might well have been called an 
object of pity. Yet in the midst of it all he was 

of good courage.^^ 

There were a few things, however, that especially 
troubled Antoine. His thoughts often reverted to 
Walter Harmsen. It grieved him much, in his 
present situation, that he had not confided more in 
this friend. Could he but see him once more, that 
he might ask his pardon for the sorrow which he 
had caused him ! But this was impossible ; com- 
munication between himself and the outer world 
was hopelessly cut off, and unless the Lord should 
work an unexpected deliverance he would never 
meet the evangelist. Another thought that gave 
the young man much concern was about his mother. 
His wish had been gratified ; he had seen her be- 
fore her death. But how ? In what condition ? 
Dying in the midst of a multitude of ecclesiastics, 
who kept from her the Bread of life and did not 
point her to that Jesus who alone can save. True, 
he had succeeded in speaking to her a few words 
of Jesus, and she had even repeated his words after 
him, as if she had made them her own. But was 
she saved ? Had she departed in the faith ? This 
question at times filled Antoine with great anxiety. 


326 


THE SOLDIERS WARD. 


He could not, of course, know what former ex- 
periences of a near and personal Saviour were 
awakened within his mother’s heart at the words 
of her son. Often in the night would he awake 
suddenly with the exclamation upon his lips. 
Mother, art thou with the Lord?” 

A still further cause of sadness was the lack of 
a Bible. As we know, Antoine had parted with 
the two volumes of the Paedts edition as a present 
to his friend Harmsen. He thought of it with 
fond remembrance and with great longing for its 
comforting and strengthening pages. He did not 
regret leaving these identical volumes behind him ; 
he knew too well that it would have been prepos- 
terous to have expected to be left in possession of 
them by the Inquisition. Antoine, therefore, 
mourned the loss of his Bible principally because 
he was now deprived of the needed spiritual 
nourishment. Had he but a few pages in his 
possession, he could have endured with more 
patience his imprisonment and loneliness. 

While occupied with these thoughts the captive 
turned, and his eye fell upon the two loaves of 
bread, which lay within the niche. Without being 
particularly hungry, he mechanically picked up one 
of them to break it and eat a few mouthfuls. As 
he took it into his hands he noticed something 
peculiar about it. A little reed projected from it, 
hut so carefully was it concealed that an ordinary 


A LOAF OF BREAD. 


327 


observer would have taken it for a piece of 
hardened dough. At the same time Antoine re- 
called the fact that the assistant jailer had directed 
his attention to one of the loaves with all kinds of 
queer gestures which he had not been able to inter- 
pret. He loosened the bread around the reed and 
drew it from the loaf ; he next broke the loaf to 
pieces, to look if it contained other matters of 
interest. But neither this nor the other loaf 
yielded anything further to his search. He now 
took the reed, and felt at once that it was much 
heavier than those that ordinarily grow on the 
banks of rivers. There must, therefore, be inside 
of it something which had been purposely hidden 
there. He peeled off the successive layers; and 
when he reached the inside, he discovered a piece 
of printed paper rolled into veiy small compass 
and enclosing another paper. Who shall describe 
his joy when he recognized in the printed pa})er a 
leaf from liis own cherished Bible? He gazed in 
ecstasy upon the well-known and beloved lines 
marked at former perusals, and the first verse that 
caught his attention was this : In the world ye 
shall have tribulation : but be of good cheer ; I have 
overcome the world.” On closer examination An- 
toine found that it was pages 470 and 471 of the 
Paedts edition of the Bible, containing the last 
verse of the sixteenth chapter of John’s Gospel, 
and the two following chapters entire. What 


328 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


could be more comforting to one in his situation 
than the chapter which recorded the prayer of 
Jesus at the Last Supper? What wonder was it 
that in his transport of joy he pressed to his lips 
the unconscious pages that yet were so eloquent 
with the words of life? Forgetting where he was, 
he broke forth into one of the hymns which Walter 
Harmsen had taught him. While singing he pro- 
ceeded with his investigations, and as he unrolled 
the second paper there fell from it a piece of iron, 
which proved to be a fine and thin but very sharp 
file. He hardly saw of what use this tool could be 
to him, for what mattered it to him whether he was 
free from his chains or not? It was impossible 
for him to escape from his cell. While these re- 
flections were passing through his mind he unfolded 
the paper that had held the file, and found that it 
contained writing. The hand seemed to have been 
jmrposely disguised, which made the words difiicult 
to decipher. After some time, however, he made 
out about the following; 

File through the bai*s of the air-hole at the 
four corners, but in such a way that they can be 
replaced during the day. Work only at night. 
Remain awake the third night after this, and watch 
the opening. A faithful friend watches and prays 
in your behalf. 




A LOAF OF BREAD. 


329 


Antoine read these lines several times, and many 
questions rose to his mind : 

^^How can I file these bars through? That 
opening is beyond my reach. And even if I could 
reach it, to what purpose should I loosen the bars ? 
Is it meant that I shall escape by that way ? But 
that is impossible, for it does not seem that I could 
much more than put my head through it. And 
again, if I could force myself through, what then ? 
The outer wall descends sheer down into the moat, 
and I could not let myself fall into that without 
incurring certain death. Yet there seems to be 
haste, for I must be ready on the third night, and 
must watch the aperture. Who could have written 
this paper ? ^ W. H.^ — ^ A faithful friend.’ I 

know but one who answers both these designations, 
and that is Walter Harmsen.” 

The clock of the prison struck four, and Antoine 
remembered with sudden fear that this was the hour 
when the fat jailer was accustomed to appear be- 
fore the slide to satisfy himself that all was safe 
within the cell. He looked about for a place 
where he could conceal the reed, the two pieces of 
paper and the file, that nothing might remain to 
rouse the suspicions of the official. He found a 
small space between the slabs of the stone bench 
and the brick foundation that supported it, and 
hastily thrust these articles into it. 

At this moment the outer door opened. Antoine 


330 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


next awaited the customary drawing of the slide 
through which the jailer was wont to look and call 
him by name. To his astonishment, however, the 
inner door was also opened and two persons entered, 
accompanied by two servants, who each carried a 
lamp, because, it being early in November, the 
evening had begun to fall. With no little dread 
Antoine recognized these persons as Father Bene- 
dictus and Philip Derot, who on entering the cell 
looked in all directions, as if expecting to find 
something, and observed with particular care the 
air-hole, that was protected by two iron bars placed 
crosswise. Antoine remained quietly seated. 

Philip Derot at length confronted the youth and 
spoke in a tone of authority : 

^‘Antoine Moreau, I have been told that you 
were singing a while ago. Is that so?’^ 

“ It is,’^ replied Antoine, calmly. 

What were you singing ?” 

A hymn of praise to God.^’ 

“ A heretic song 

^^No,” answered the youth, firmly; “a Christian 
song.^^ 

“How can you sing in such a place as this? 
Has something occurred which moved you to 
express your joy 

This question startled Antoine for an instant, for 
the superior had come very near the fact, but it 
would have been ruinous to admit it : 


A LOAF OF BREAD. 


331 


I was thinking of a comforting passage, and 
this gave me such joy that I could not refrain from 
singing.” 

“ And what passage was this ?” asked the superior 
of the Jesuits. 

This : ‘ In the world ye shall have tribulation : 
but be of good cheer ; I have overcome the world.^ ” 
“ Then you consider yourself in tribulation ?” 
^^It seems to me,” said Antoine, with emphasis, 
that this prison affords some evidence of it.” 

But it is a tribulation which you have obstinate- 
ly and willfully drawn down upon yourself,” said 
Father Benedictus. ^^It is your own voluntary 
act, because you have only to renounce your her- 
etic convictions and you will be free.” 

The apostle Paul,” began Antoine, says 
that—” 

Oh, keep still about your apostle Paul ! Our 
holy Church teaches that all those who depart from 
her faith are heretics and must be punished with 
death. You may regard it as an evidence of our 
great mercy and forbearance that we have not as 
yet gone to such extremes with you, trusting that 
you will yet return to the bosom of our Church.” 

I cannot do so. I have devoted myself, soul 
and body, to the Lord Jesus, and would commit 
an act of gross unfaithfulness to him if I should 
return to your Church.” 

^^But surely our Church serves Christ — ” 


332 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


“ Yes, but besides him, and together with him, 
many saints. Your Church is hostile to the truth, 
inasmuch as she persecutes and kills those who love 
and preach the word of God. Your Church de- 
clares — ” 

Be silent, heretic interrupted Philip Derot. 

We perceive that you remain as hard of heart as 
ever, and that you will go to perdition with your 
lies.” 

The Holy Spirit says, ‘ There is therefore now 
no condemnation to them which are in Christ 
Jesus.’ I need have no fear, accordingly, of 
going to perdition, since by the grace of Jesus I 
am his.” 

“Again I command you to be silent,” said 
Derot. “ You are not our instructor ; it is nothing 
but your pernicious pride that makes you speak 
thus. But we will find means to humble you : 
after this you shall have but half a bottle of water 
and one loaf of bread per week.” 

Derot ordered his victim to rise and go the 
length of his chain. 

“You perceive, reverend sir,” said Father Bene- 
dictus, “ that the heretic cannot possibly reach the 
air-hole.” 

“ I am convinced of it. Our keeper may set 
his mind at rest on this score.” 

“ No, he cannot hope to escape,” said Benedictus, 
with a smile. 


A LOAF OF BREAD. 


333 


Though a thousand devils came to his aid,” 
added the superior, in the same vein. Even in 
that case he would not be benefited, for I have 
thought of an infallible means to frustrate any 
attempts to befriend him on the part of the evil 
one. — Men,” he continued, turning to the servants, 
who stood near the wall with the lamps, fetch the 
image of our Holy Virgin. The jailer is at the 
door of the corridor, and will assist you.” 

The two servants placed the lamps within the 
niche and left the cell, soon returning with an image 
of the Virgin Mary holding the infant Jesus. 
Unfortunately, there was no fitting place for this 
defender against evil spirits ; for the niche was too 
small, and to place the image upon the floor or in a 
corner would be desecration. There was, there- 
fore, no way to but to place it upon the bench. 

The heretic can sit upon the floor,” said Philip 
Derot. 

He will have to,” remarked Benedictus. 

Saints are of more account than are heretics.” 

<<Very true,” said the superior. ^^Now let us 
go ; everything seems in order.” 

“ I notice nothing out of the way,” was the 
FathePs reply. Still, shall we take one more 
look? — Here, men, light us with your lamps.” 

The servants complied with tliis command, and 
now every corner of the cell was carefully searched, 
and even the damp straw which constituted An- 


334 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


toine’s bed, was taken up and scattered ; next the 
chains were sharply examined. The niche, too, 
was not forgotten. 

There may be hid something under the bench,” 
suggested Philip Derot. Who knows what the 
evil spirits may have brought the heretic? — Bend 
down, men, and see if you can discover anything.” 

Antoine Moreau scarcely breathed in the anxiety 
of the moment, and sent up a fervent prayer to God 
for help. 

‘‘ Take no trouble, reverend sir,” said a voice 
from between the two doors, where Joris Ruikmans 
had remained standing after opening the doors for 
the clergymen — “ take no trouble to examine the 
stone bench. This very morning the bench and 
everything in its vicinity were thoroughly examined 
and washed.” 

“Then cease further examination,” commanded 
Derot, “and let us go.” 

The two servants Avent before with the lamps. 
Philip Derot and Father Benedictus cast parting 
glances full of aversion at the prisoner, and 
followed. Joris locked both doors, and Antoine 
remained alone, staring at the white image through 
the darkness. He waited till he could no longer 
hear any sounds of the retreating party, and then 
felt no scruples whatever in taking Mary gently 
by the arm and placing her in a corner, while he 
himself resumed his seat upon the bench. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

WORKING BY NIGHT. 

A fter some moments Antoine bent down and 
drew from its hiding-place the treasure which 
had escaped the eyes of his enemies. It was now 
time to heed the directions of the little note urging 
him to file through the bars of the loophole. He 
could not as yet quite understand the purpose of 
this request, but he was, of course, convinced that 
this counsel had not proceeded from his enemies. 
There was an understanding between himself and 
the foster-parent of his youth, Joris Ruikmans, 
but instinctively they had jealously guarded against 
the least sign of recognition, lest any means of aid 
which lay within the power of the assistant jailer 
might be frustrated by even a suspicion of sym- 
pathy. The motions of Joris now put it beyond a 
peradventure that he was in the secret of the 
contents of the loaf; and if so, friends must be 
at work to secure Antoine’s release in some way. 
Hence he resolved to do exactly as told, and to 
wait till later for explanations. However, before 
he could undertake the task specified in the note, he 

335 


336 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


must relieve himself of the chain which held him 
to the wall ; accordingly, he immediately addressed 
himself to this labor. It was to be accomplished 
with great nicety and in such a way that it would 
not be observed by day. The operation, though a 
delicate one, required also an exertion of strength 
which was quite a tax upon Antoine’s exhausted 
frame. He could not, therefore, make rapid head- 
way, and the prison clock sounded twelve before his 
hand was freed from the chain. The drops of 
sweat streamed from his forehead, and he felt so 
weak and weary after this unusual expenditure of 
energy that he was compelled to cast himself upon 
his pallet of straw to regain his strength. The 
relief from the heavy chain was very grateful, yet 
he endeavored not to fall asleep, for time was 
precious. 

After resting a few moments, Antoine sprang to 
his feet, prayed to the Lord for support and help, 
and went to the wall in which was the aperture 
that communicated with the outer air.- But this 
was much too high to be reached even with the 
outstretched hand. His cell contained nothing 
that could atford him a footing while he filed the 
bars ; the bench upon which he sat during the day 
was a piece of masonry that could not be moved at 
will about the apartment. What, then, was to be 
done? But Necessity is the mother of Invention. 
He divested himself of his waistcoat, tore it into 


WORKING BY NIGHT, 


337 


long strips, tied these together, and after many 
attempts succeeded in throwing this substitute for 
a rope around one of the bars in such a way that 
the end dropped down. Pulling it even with the 
other end, he had a means of drawing himself up. 
But he must have something on which to place 
his feet. The wall inclined slightly inward, and, 
feeling about in every direction, he discovered one 
stone or brick which was somewhat loose. He 
found that with a little effort he could remove 
and replace it at will. Taking it from its position, 
there was afforded a precarious footing by the hole. 
Lifting himself up and placing one foot here, he 
found he could reach the bars at every point. He 
at once applied the file to one end of the transverse 
bar, but the iron being of the hardest quality, and 
the danger of discovery forbidding too much noise, 
the labor promised to be none of the shortest or 
the easiest. Besides this, the position which he was 
compelled to assume was a most painful and difficult 
one. His left hand must hold the strips of his 
waistcoat, while only one foot at a time could rest 
upon the support in the wall ; soon, therefore, he 
was forced to descend through utter exhaustion. 
After half an hour of rest he again addressed 
himself to his task ; but it was only with intervals 
of rest that he could continue the labor. In this 
way he had filed through one end of the horizontal 
bar, and had made some progress with an incision 
22 


338 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


into the other end, when the day broke, and he 
must stop his work till another night. Now he 
undid the strips, wound them about his bare body, 
replaced file and papers in their hiding-place, again 
attached himself to the chain, thanked God for the 
help he had vouchsafed him, and cast himself upon 
the straw to rest from his wearying labors. 

The day passed without any disturbing events 
except the four customary visits from the jailer. 
Antoine sought to gain as much sleep as possible 
through the day, so as not to suffer from the want 
of it at night, and to gain as much strength as he 
could for the accomplishment of his object. When 
night came, he again went to work with a will; 
but, being a little better inured to the difficulties 
of his task, he achieved much more than on the 
previous night. Before daybreak the four ends 
of the upright and transverse bars were severed, 
but the bars were left in position, as if perfectly 
sound. The day was passed in expectation, and at 
last the period designated in the note was at hand. 

Although not mentioned in so many words in 
the note, Antoine surmised it would be in accord- 
ance with the intention of the writer if he were to 
remove the bars. This was not easily effected, and 
he received many bruises in the process of lowering 
them to the floor. While he had been engaged upon 
his work on the previous night he had noticed by 
the light qf a young moon that there was a small 


WORKING BY NIGHT. 


339 


piece of woods on the other side of the moat, 
coming to the water^s edge. Having removed the 
bars, he now took the image of the Virgin from 
the position it occupied by day and sat himself 
upon the bench, directing his eyes to the aperture 
and prayerfully awaiting events. 

Antoine had sat thus watching intently for about 
half an hour, when he heard some object strike the 
outside of the wall and then fall into the water. 
What could this be ? He listened eagerly. Again 
something was thrown against the wall, seeming to 
strike nearer the opening, but it too plunged into 
the water. The riddle was now readily solved : 
some one on the opposite side of the moat was 
trying to throw something to him, which was a 
very difficult experiment, considering the smallness 
of the aperture and the greatness of the distance. 
But a third attempt proved successful : an object 
came tumbling through the loophole and fell in the 
middle of the floor. Hurriedly picking it up, An- 
toine found it to be a little bundle wrapped in oiled 
linen ; there was a stout cord attached to it. He 
first thought that this had been used to swing the 
bundle and give it the necessary impulse, but as he 
pulled at it to draw it within his cell there seemed 
to be no end to it. The greater part was wet, 
showing that it had passed through the water of 
the moat. Pretty soon the cord became thicker, 
and at its termination a network of ropes seemed 


340 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


to come falling into the cell. At first it greatly 
puzzled Antoine to make out what this was ; but 
when he had it all within his reach, he saw that it 
formed a sort of rope-ladder. Next he removed 
the wrapper of oiled linen from the bundle; the 
inside had not suffered from water, and the first 
object that presented itself was a piece of white 
paper covered with writing in a very large hand. 
The moon was sending a few feeble rays through 
the narrow opening, and, catching these upon the 
])aper, it cost Antoine no great effort to read the 
following ; ‘‘ Immediately place the bars back in 
their former position, in token that you have re- 
ceived the bundle. Watch to-morrow night.’’ He 
at once hastened to comply with this direction. 

Antoine next investigated the bundle. Who 
can imagine his delight when he found one of 
the volumes of his Paedts Bible? The feeble 
moonlight did not permit him to read any of the 
fine print, but he could see enough to show him 
that it was one of his own volumes which he had 
presented to Walter Harmsen. He also found be- 
tween its pages a letter covered within and with- 
out with writing, and he longed eagerly for the 
daylight, when he might ascertain its contents. 

But, pleased as the prisoner was for the moment 
at receiving these various articles, they brought 
him, likewise, into no little perplexity. Where 
should he hide all these objects? The walls no- 


WORKING BY NIGHT. 


341 


where offered a recess or hole convenient for this 
purpose. And yet every vestige of them must be 
removed from sight before the first visit of the 
jailer, at the dawn of day ; a portion of the cord, 
and even the rope-ladder, he could wind about his 
body and conceal under his clothes, but what was 
to be done with the Bible and the wrapper of oiled 
linen? He ran up and down his cell in despair, 
looking in vain for some hiding-place. Suddenly 
his eye fell upon the image of Mary, and a happy 
idea struck him. He turned the image upside 
down, and perceived that it was hollow and promised 
ample room to receive all the articles he wished to 
conceal. Having deposited them in such a way 
that the upright position of the image would not 
disgorge them, he placed it upon the bench, smiling 
to himself at the duty which the charmer of evil 
spirits was compelled to perform. Having now 
restored order to his cell, he laid himself upon his 
straw and fell asleep. How long he had slept he 
did not know, but he did not Wake till he was 
aroused by the voice of the persistent jailer. 
Fortunately, the latter did not make even as long 
a stay as usual, brief as that was ; and, rising from 
his pallet and thanking God, Antoine took the 
letter from the image and began to read. 

We will not reproduce the entire letter, content- 
ing ourselves with an account of its chief points 
of interest to us. It was in the handwriting of 


342 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


Walter Harmsen, aud began, ‘‘Dear friend and 
brother in our Lord Jesus Christ ! May the Lord 
grant you to enjoy his nearness, and to taste the 
precious consolation of his Holy Spirit.’^ Next 
he informed Antoine that after numberless efforts 
to ascertain his whereabouts — conducted, of course, 
under the profoundest secrecy — he had finally 
succeeded in discovering where he was confined, 
and that he and some friends, whose names, for 
obvious reasons, he would not mention, had been 
maturing plans for effecting his escape. Further, 
he counseled him to take good care of the rope- 
ladder, because it would be explained to him later 
on what he was to do, while the writer requested 
Antoine to remove the bars from the opening 
during the three succeeding nights. Whatever 
might happen, he could be assured that the writer 
suffered gi*eat anxiety on his account, but that he 
would remain faithful unto death. 

It may be imagined what cheer these lines 
brought to Antoine, filling him with the assurance 
of the love and care of friends and awakening the 
hope of deliverance from his enemies. Much con- 
solation was also afforded him in the hours of his 
solitude by the quickening pages of God’s word. 
Every moment of the day when he could do this 
safely he was occupied in this profitable exercise. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


THE RESCUE INTERRUPTED. 



AYS grew into weeks, during which Antoine 


Moreau continued to hold communication 
with his friends in the way described in the pre- 
ceding chapter. He received, always by means of 
a bundle thrown skillfully through the aperture, 
a number of articles which were of comfort to him 
in his loneliness. But all information regarding 
the state of things or the progress of plans outside 
of the prison was carefully kept from him, lest it 
should fall into hands for which it was not destined. 
And it was understood between him and his friends 
that whenever the bars remained un removed it was 
a sign that nothing should be attempted that night. 
Provision had also been made to relieve him from 
superfluous articles by advising him to attach such 
objects to the string in the place of the bundle 
newly conveyed, when they would be drawn back 
by the parties who had sent the others. This was 
a very necessary measure, for the accommodating 
image could hardly have contained an unlimited 
supply of oiled-linen wrappers or coils of rope. 


344 


THE SOLDIER WARD. 


and the vigilant eyes of his jailers must always be 
remembered. 

Meanwhile, Antoine’s supply of food — consisting 
of one loaf of bread per week and half a bottle 
of water within the same period — was so small 
that it scarcely sufficed for two days. Hunger so 
greatly distressed him that during the night pre- 
ceding the day on which his supply was renewed 
he could not sleep, but moaned continually for food. 
And his sufferings from thirst were none the less. 
Fervently did he long for deliverance ; he prayed 
that he might at least see Walter Harmsen before 
his death, which he looked forward to as certainly 
near at hand, whether he should be rescued or not. 

We shall see whether this prayer was heard. 
Before it was to be answered, however, if answered 
at all, Antoine was destined to suffer much anxiety, 
and even to relapse into despair of ever leaving his 
prison. Without previous warning all communica- 
tion with his friends suddenly ceased. Two, three 
nights in succession Antoine removed the bat’s and 
listened patiently for the welcome sounds against 
the outer wall, but in vain. He was possessed by 
the apprehension that everything had been dis- 
covered, and that accordingly he would be watched 
more keenly than ever. He also feared that his 
friends might have been detected, and possibly 
arrested and imprisoned. « His cell became more 
dreary than ever as he thought of these possibili- 


THE RESCUE INTERRUPTED. 


345 


ties, and for one last assurance that all was well with 
them he would gladly have restored all he had 
obtained from them hitherto. But he received 
none, and the eifects of starvation became daily 
more painful. His strength was so greatly* reduced 
that he could scarcely reach the bars, and at last he 
could not do so except on the night after he had 
received his alloAvance of bread and water. Had 
his friends forsaken him? For an explanation we 
will need to cast a glance at events outside the 
prison. 

At the distance of about six miles from Tournay 
was situated tlie village of Leers. Hidden among 
woods of lofty oak and beech trees, the traveler 
between Courtray and Tournay would hardly 
notice it ; but if by accident he had lost his way 
and happened unexpectedly upon it, he could have 
found no reason to complain, for Nature here was 
very attractive. Not far from the village stood the 
old castle of the count of Leers, who had been be- 
headed at Brussels ten years before for heresy. The 
castle was now unoccupied, and at such times as 
troops found it convenient to stop at the village on 
their way to or from the scene of the campaign the 
venerable building was made a barracks by the 
reckless bands, who plundered orchard and garden 
or hunted the game stocking in great plenty the 
surrounding forest. At the foot of a hill not far 
from the unoccupied castle lived a farmer familiarly 


346 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


known as ^‘the Hollander,” because some years 
previous to the time of our tale he had come from 
Holland and settled here on a farm which had 
been bequeathed to him by a relative. The Hol- 
lander — whom for convenience we shall continue 
thus to designate — was a man of some forty years 
of age. In his youth he had become acquainted 
with the doctrines of the Reformation through 
the preaching of Walter Harmsen, and was by no 
means averse to these doctrines. But his settlement 
in the South had somewhat modified his opinions. 
For fear of making an ado, as well as because he 
had no mind to risk his life and possessions, he had 
never quite shown what he really felt, but was ever 
waiting for some better condition of affairs in the 
land, when he would openly confess his leaning to 
tlie Reformation. 

By chance, as people are apt to say, the Holland- 
er had come into contact with Joris Rnikmans. 
When Joris traveled about as a peddler of dry 
goods in the vicinity of the cities of Leyden and 
The Hague, this farmer had met him more than 
once. Glad to meet with a fellow-countryman, he 
had invited the manikin to visit his house as 
frequently as the duties of his position would 
permit, and Joris was not loth to avail himself of 
this cordiality, especially because the Hollander 
was at the same time a brewer and often refreshed 
the traveling stranger with a glass of beer, or, if 


THE RESCUE INTERRUPTED. 


347 


Deed be, lodged him over-night. The Hollander, 
on his part, took much delight in the society of 
the assistant jailer, for the latter was an intelligent 
little man, a keen observer and a ready talker, who 
had seen and heard much and to some purpose. 
Gradually a close intimacy sprang up between the 
two, which was cemented as they communicated to 
each other more and more of their private history 
or sentiments. As a consequence, Joris was not 
long in becoming acquainted with the prosperous 
farmer’s secret views, nor was the latter left in 
ignorance of the fact that Joris was much in favor 
of the Reformed faith, and would no doubt have 
become a zealous Protestant if his wife had not 
carried things too far by her imprudence. 

Matters were at this stage between these two friends 
when on the afternoon of a dark and dreary day 
Joris was seated in the house of the Jlollander and 
the door of the public-room was opened and three 
men entered. These men had the appearance of 
being traveling merchants, and from their conversa- 
tion over a can of beer it was soon learned that 
they were dealers in glass and were on their way 
to Courtray. Joris, whose duty called him to the 
prison before the evening, had risen and was on 
the point of taking leave of the Hollander, when 
he seemed suddenly attracted by the looks of one 
of the three merchants and with difficulty refrained 
from an exclamation of surprise. But the mer- 


348 


TEE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


chant himself seemed to have recognized Joris, for 
on giving him his hand he whispered, 

Do not call me by name.” 

^^As you please,” answered Joris, also in a 
whisper ; but if you can trust the men who came 
in with you, I can tell you that you are among 
friends here.” 

The two now stepped into an adjoining apart- 
ment, when the supposed merchant made himself 
known as Walter Harmsen, who, accompanied by 
John Paedts and Dirk Broeks, had come to rescue 
Antoine Moreau if such a thing were possible. 

Joris was deeply moved to learn that the prisoner 
of the Inquisition was his former foster-son. If 
the name of the unfortunate victim had been known 
to him, he would have been aware of this at once ; 
but the Inquisition was not in the habit of record- 
ing names upon the prison-books, and to Joris the 
present victim, like others before him, was known 
by no other designation than the heretic.” The 
youth of eighteen at his best would not have 
recalled to Ruikmans the boy of nine, but, reduced 
by grief and torture, Joris had altogetlier failed to 
identify him, and, while Antoine was fully aware 
of the identity of the assistant jailer, obvious rea- 
sons stood in the way of his making himself known. 
Walter Harmsen further informed the manikin 
that after numberless perils he had succeed e<l in 
ascertaining the prison where his friend was con- 


THE RESCUE INTERRUPTED. 


349 


fined, and he had tlianked the Lord that it was the 
one where he knew Joris was employed, convinced 
as he was that he could depend upon the latter^s 
co-operation in the attempts at rescue. 

The little man was profuse in his offers of assist- 
ance, now that he knew who the prisoner was, but 
did not disguise the extreme difficulty of rescuing 
Antoine. Walter Harmsen at first hesitated to 
permit Joris to do more than give important in- 
formation as to certain items, fearing that his active 
co-operation inside the prison-walls might not be 
strictly honorable; but Joris declared that in the 
case of such despicable and treacherous dealings on 
the part of the Jesuits it was his duty to stand by 
the right at every risk, and the more so as he still 
felt a parent’s interest in the welfare of the per- 
secuted youth. 

As Walter Harmsen did not, of course, for a 
moment question Joris’s word, and hence felt he 
could trust the Hollander, he saw no objection to 
accepting the request of the brewer for him to 
stop a few days at his house. But Walter Harm- 
sen could not remain unrecognized by the latter. 
Although it was perhaps twenty years since they 
had met, nevertheless, when the lamps had been 
brought into the room and the light fell upon 
Harrnsen’s features, the brewer stepped up to him 
and made himself known as a man who had been 
brought to the knowledge of the gospel by him. 


350 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


It may be conceived how glad a discovery this was 
to our friend. Several questions and answers were 
hurriedly exchanged. Walter, who now felt that 
the Hollander could indeed be trusted, informed 
him also of his plans. Among other things, he 
announced that his bosom-friend, the whilom officer 
in the service of the States, Major Dirk Gapertz, 
was on the way hither, accompanied by several 
disguised soldiers, who would support the move- 
ment they had in mind should the Inquisition call 
out their military. The Hollander counseled great 
caution, as the Inquisition had its spies everywhere, 
and thus that it would be better to withdmw once 
in a while from the neighborhood and to assemble 
mostly during the night to avoid suspicion. Wal- 
ter assured the farmer that to counteract the keen 
espionage of the Inquisition or the Jesuits, and to 
be warned of their movements in time, he had 
come with three members of the secret service of 
the sheriff of Leyden. 

As Joris could not possibly remain any longer, 
Walter accompanied him some distance upon the 
road, arranging some matters with him, and be- 
sought him not to let his eagerness to help the 
youth he so loved as a boy overcome his prudence 
or his judgment, lest suspicion might be awakened 
and all their schemes come to miserable failure. 

The friends of Antoine Moreau now rapidly 
matured their plans. It was resolved to remain at 


THE RESCUE INTERRUPTED. 


351 


Leers for some time, and, after introducing means 
of deliverance into the prisoner’s cell and intimating 
their presence, to repair by night to a piece of 
woods opposite the prison and attempt to establish 
direct communication with Antoine from the out- 
side. We have seen how well they succeeded in 
these undertakings, until they came to a sudden 
stop. 

It had come to the knowledge of the Inquisition 
that some suspicious persons were in hiding in the 
vicinity of Leers. Although nothing was as yet 
known of their precise intentions, it was neverthe- 
less surmised that these traveling merchants had 
something more in mind than selling glass. First, 
it was proposed by some to leave it to the govern- 
ment to investigate the matter, but at the suggestion 
of Philip Derot and some others it was determined 
to watch the movements of these parties. This 
resolution fortunately came to the ears of Joris, 
who conveyed the information as speedily as he 
could to the Hollander, who in turn put Walter 
Harmsen and his friends on their guard. The 
farmer advised an immediate retreat and an absence 
for some time, while Joris should see to making 
Antoine as comfortable as he could. 

However willing our manikin was to take that 
charge upon his shoulders, it was equally impossi- 
ble to convey either information or much-needed 
nourishment to Antoine. Even the limited oppor- 


352 


THE SOLDTER^S WARD. 


tunity that had formerly been his was now com- 
pletely cut off, for the Jesuits chose to consider it 
remotely possible that the prisoner stood in some 
relation to the suspected parties, and took advantage 
of this pretext to watch his cell more closely than 
ever. First of all, a thorough search was again 
made of the cell, but fortunately nothing was dis- 
covered, for, as the prisoner could not even reach 
the wall in which the aperture was built, there was 
made no close inspection of the cross-bars, and not 
the remotest idea occurred to his enemies that the 
Holy Virgin could be the depository of the articles 
smuggled into her presence during the night. But 
the authorities were not content to abide by tliis. 
One of the members of the inquisitorial court took 
it upon himself to accompany the jailer four times 
every day upon his visits to the prisoner’s cell, in 
order pereonally to assure himself that all was safe, 
and that the prisoner received no more bread and 
water than was allowed him. This was a grievous 
disappointment to Joris, for now day after day 
went by witliout his being enabled even to come 
near the youth’s cell. 

In the mean time, Antoine was suffering severely 
from the want of food. Not only was he tormented 
by uncertainties and fears with regard to his friends, 
but hunger distressed him night and day. The 
last morsel of bread was devoured, and yet it 
would be three whole days before the next supply 


THE RESCUE INTERRUPTED. 


353 


came. His situation was frightful. He called 
constantly upon God, who had in days past fed his 
own by means of ravens, but it seemed as if his 
prayers were not to be answered, for the day went 
by and no bread. Nevertheless, Antoine doubted 
not but that help would soon come. Night came, 
yet he could not sleep ; the pangs of hunger raged 
with increasing violence. Again he threw himself 
upon his knees, and with his face turned to the 
opening, from whence he had removed the grating, 
he prayed the Lord not to abandon him. Suddenly 
he heard a sound ; it was the same for which he 
had longed during several days, and to which he 
had grown so accustomed. An object struck the 
wall and fell into the water. After an interval 
the sound was repeated — twice, three, four times. 
Could it be that a less skillful hand was trying the 
exj)eriment? Meantime, Antoine prayed for its 
success — the more fervently, the more its failure 
seemed assured — until, lo ! something tumbled 
through the aperture and fell on the floor by his 
side. ^^Amen said the youth, rising from his 
knees and taking the bundle in his hands. As 
usual, a cord was attached. Antoine drew the 
cord into the cell, and, looking into the package, 
discovered to his joy a loaf of rye-bread and a 
note. The latter must be laid aside till the mor- 
row ; the bread was partaken of with devout grat- 
itude. It probably saved him from inimedi^te 


354 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


starvation. He enjoyed sleep during the remainder 
of the night, and at the break of day read the 
following : 

Dear Antoine: It is God’s will that 
you should for some time yet endure the trial of 
imprisonment, but ere long we hope to be able to 
announce the hour when you will be delivered. 
Preserve all the cordage that you have received 
from time to time ; it will be of use. I was not 
able to sleep on your account the night before; 
it seemed to me as if you were suffering from hun- 
ger, and I resolved, in spite of the objections of my 
friends, who are now far from here, to take advan- 
tage of the dark night to come to this spot and to 
try and throw you this loaf. May the Lord grant 
me success ! for the opening is very hard to make, 
on account of the darkness.” 

Antoine kissed the paper again and again ; there • 
was no other way to manifest his gratitude to his 
friend and brother. Tears sprang into his eyes as 
he thought of Walter Harmsen’s grief and his 
exertions to save him. He resolved to be sparing 
in the use of the bread which had come to him as 
it were from Heaven. One hope now possessed 
him — that his life might be extended at least so 
long as to enable him to meet and thank and bless 
that dearest friend upon earth. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE JESUIT AGAIN IN USE. 

HILIP DEROT and Father Bened ictus, mean- 



J- while, were not quite at their ease. They were 
greatly disappointed when they learned that the 
suspicious strangers had left Leers, and they were 
convinced that a traitor must have warned them of 
the intentions of the Jesuits. They were consoling 
themselves with the idea that these strangers were 
harmless, after all, and they wished to forget the 
whole affair, when from another source information 
reached them that the so-called Hollander leaned 
to Protestant sentiments, and that for this reason 
his house had been made the rendezvous of the 
suspected parties, who had by no means as yet left 
these regions. 

Accordingly, the officials of the Inquisition de- 
termined to be more watchful than ever. Floren- 
tius Digo was again chosen to be their spy, and was 
commissioned to investigate what was going on at 
Leers. His mission, however, was to be kept a 
profound secret; so that no one might get the 
remotest intimation of it, lest the parties in question 


355 


356 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


should again have an opportunity to withdraw 
from the scene. This last especially the Inquisition 
wished to prevent. They cherished the hope that 
by a well-directed blow they might gain possession 
of the persons of all those who had assembled at a 
heretic gathering at the house of the Hollander. 

No one was better fitted to carry out these 
designs than Floreutius Digo. He laid aside his 
clerical robes, put on the dress of a miller, and 
through the secret influence of the superior ob- 
tained employment in a mill which stood in the 
neighborhood of Leers. The Jesuit proceeded 
with his accustomed astuteness. For the first few 
days he remained quietly at home. His master did 
not know definitely anything of the plan, but he 
knew enough to discover that the new mill-hand 
brought in more money than he earned. Accord- 
ingly, the miller let him remain and do what he 
pleased, and remarked to his wife, 

“ If I had three men like that, I would sell my 
mill and go live in the city.’^ 

Florentius had been in the employ of the miller 
for more than a week without setting his foot out 
of doors except to go to mass very early in the 
morning. He seemed to have no eyes except for 
flour, and his mouth was as tightly shut as that of 
a bag of grain, but his ears were the more active. 
The most insignificant rumor which was of no 
importance to others he caught at with avidity. 


TBE JESUIT AGAIN IN USE. 


357 


without, however, appearing to do so. In the 
evening he sat before his bowl of milk like one 
exhausted by the labors of the day, and was eager 
to retire to bed. No matter on what topic one 
addressed him, he had nothing to reply — not even 
when the miller complained that his nephew, who 
kept an inn in the village, had so few guests since 
the Hollander had begun to run a brewery — that 
the Hollander received strange visits from men 
who had disappeared a while ago and had now 
returned. All this the mill-hand heard with ex- 
ternal indifference. 

On a certain evening Florentius informed his 
master that he must go out that evening, and that 
if he did not return during the night it might 
happen that he would be absent some two or three 
days. It had come to the ears of the Jesuit not 
only that the suspected persons had returned to 
the house of the Hollander, but that others 
were concealed within the abandoned castle. His 
plan was formed at once. At a little distance from 
the village several soldiers in the service of the 
Inquisition were to be held in readiness to await 
a signal from Florentius and then hasten to his 
assistance and arrest the whole company. 

Clad in his milleFs suit, the Jesuit stealthily 
walked the streets of the village, taking the road 
to the castle and creeping cautiously along in the 
darkness. Just as he was on the point of leaving 


358 


THE SOLDIER^S WARD. 


the cluster of elm trees that surrounded the build- 
ing, but left a clear space immediately around it, 
he heard the voices of some persons leaving the 
castle. He held his breath and listened. 

'^According to agreement, Dirk Broeks will 
remain with you, and you must keep yourselves 
carefully concealed here. As soon as our under- 
taking has succeeded and we pass by with the 
wagon do you join us, to protect us against assault. 
Do you understand 

Very well ! very well was the reply. 

“ But would it not be better to fix the hour 
now?’^ asked another voice. 

I would not advise such a course,” replied the 
first speaker. ^^We must first consult with our 
host, and we would also rather have him who is 
within know everything beforehand. Not to 
awaken suspicions, I deem it best that you men 
remain here, while we proceed to — ” 

More than this Florentius could not hear, but he 
had heard a great deal, and might well remain 
satisfied for the present. He allowed the two 
persons — who had apparently taken leave of a 
number of others — to pass by the tree behind 
which he stood, and then followed them at a short 
distance. He noticed that they went in the di- 
rection of the Hollander’s house, and he would 
gladly have gone to notify the troops of the In- 
quisition and arrest them ere they should arrive 


THE JESUIT AGAIN IN USE. 


359 


there had he not perceived that this would but 
half accomplish his purpose. Evidently, part of 
these conspirators — for such now they appeared to 
be — were in one place and part in another. Some 
plan must be matured by which both the Holland- 
er's house and the castle could be surprised at once 
and all the inmates captured. 

Besides, though Digo had heard enough to 
suggest a great deal to his mind, he had by no 
means obtained sufficient information to work upon 
and make sure of his case. What was the nature 
of the undertaking of which they spoke, and who 
was that pei-son of whom it was said that he was 
within f Florentius, accordingly, deemed it ex- 
pedient to follow these men to the Hollanders 
liouse and see what more he could observe or hear 
there. He was disappointed, however, on arriving 
there, to find that the parties he had followed had 
entered by a way he could not see ; and when he 
reached the place, every door and blind was tightly 
shut. He was compelled, therefore, to wait until 
the persons who he knew had been admitted should 
leave again. And this waiting was by no means an 
agreeable pastime, for a cold north wind howled 
among the tree-tops and hissed past his ears. But 
what did this matter to Florentius Digo? He was 
too true a Jesuit not to be inured to all manner of 
discomforts and hardships, and, in the spirit of 
obedience inculcated by his order, he would have 


360 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


stood there till he froze to death rather than leave 
his post of duty or allow his pui’pose to meet with 
failure. He was not, however, put to a test quite 
so severe as that. The village-clock struck twelve, 
one, two, and yet no one had appeared. If Digo 
had not been sure that he had seen two men enter 
the house, or had not noticed through cracks or 
seams in the shutters that there was light inside, he 
might have thought that he was mistaken in the 
house and that all was at rest within the brewery. 
The contrary, however, was too evident, and at 
times he could hear the sound of a voice. He 
accordingly remained firm in his resolution to wait 
and watch. 

It was about half-past two o’clock when Flo- 
rentius thought he heard the sound made by the 
hoofs of a horse which seemed to be approaching 
the spot where he stood. He was not deceived, 
for a few minutes later he saw a man on horseback, 
accompanied by a man who led tlie horse by the 
bridle. Both almost brushed past him, but the 
darkness concealed him from their observation. 
Arrived at the house, one alighted from the horse, 
while the other took the animal to the barn. The 
latter came back and joined his companion, when 
they both proceeded to announce themselves at the 
door. The Jesuit now noticed that the man who 
had ridden the horse walked lame. The two 
knocked, giving first one rap, and then seven in 


THE JESUIT AGAIN IN USE, 


361 


quick succession. Immediately there was a move- 
ment within the house. 

“ Who is there asked a voice from within. 

“ A friend from The Hague.” 

The door was speedily opened, and while several 
exclaimed Welcome, major !” the rider and his 
conductor entered the room. 

Florentius had looked intently, but could see 
nothing of the persons inside ; now he was again 
left in darkness and solitude. He muttered to 
himself, and was more than ever confirmed in the 
resolution to wait for still further developments. 

“ I shall wait the entire night through,” he said 
to himself; ^^no doubt there will be more birds 
coming to this heretic nest.” 

But while Florentius Higo stands shivering with 
the cold out-doors and braves the discomfort with 
grim determination, we shall enter the house, par- 
take of its comfortable cheer and listen to the con- 
versation which beguiled the hours that proved so 
long and tedious to the Jesuit. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


MEMORIES OF THE PAST. 

HE room to which we are introduced is a very 



J- spacious one. The state of the weather out- 
side makes it delightful to see the great logs of 
wood burning lustily upon the wide and deep 
hearth. The dancing flames leap up to a great 
height, and their bright blaze renders the lighting 
of lamps entirely unnecessary. 

The occupants of the room have ranged them- 
selves in a semicircle about the hearth and are 
earnestly engaged in conversation. The Hollander 
is seated at one corner of the chimney. Near him 
stands a large wardrobe, against which a musket is 
leaning; through the partially-opened door a pair 
of clumsy pistols may also be seen. Next to the 
Hollander sits our friend Walter Harmsen ; two 
more persons occupy the remaining chairs. It is 
long past midnight, and yet no thought of parting 
company seems to disturb them. On the contrary, 
the host has just brought in a new supply of wood 
and thrown it upon the glowing coals. 

^^It remains, then, as we have agreed upon,” 


362 


MEMORIES OF THE PAST. 


363 


the Hollander remarked, when he had resumed his 
seat ; for, indeed, we may well say of our project, 
‘ Now or never.’ I believe we have a fine chance 
just at present.” 

“ I am greatly rejoiced, dear friend,” said Walter 
Harmsen, that you speak in so decided and en- 
couraging a manner. A while ago you were so 
exceedingly cautious — ” 

‘^Oh, I feel differently now,” interrupted the 
Hollander. I begin to see that prudence, as it is 
called, may sometimes lead to sin and to one’s 
great spiritual injury; it may be the result of a 
love of ease and be too gratifying to the flesh.” 

‘‘Very true, dear friend,” answered Walter, 
“but, avoiding this kind of prudence, we shall 
exercise the right sort in this business; for the 
success of our undertaking will largely depend 
upon that. To-morrow night, when the clock 
strikes half-past one, Antoine Moreau must begin 
the dangerous venture; and when he has reached 
us in safety, we shall plac'e him upon the wagon 
and hurry to a place of safety under the protec- 
tion of our band of soldiers, but more especially 
under the protection of a higher and mightier 
Power.” 

“You may well call it a dangerous venture,” 
spoke one of the two whom Florentius had followed 
from the castle — “perilous both for him and for 
us. How he is to get through that opening is a 


364 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


puzzle to me, and how he is to cross the moat is 
still more perplexing.’’ 

“Be of good courage, Mr. Paedts,” said Walter 
to the last speaker; “the affair will succeed with 
the Lord’s help. You know who is to arrange 
the escape, do you not?” 

“ No, I cannot say that I really know,” answered 
the other of the later comers, whose name was Dirk 
Broeks, one of Harmsen’s right-hand men at the 
village of Voorschoteu. 

“ Why, it is none other than Major Gapertz, 
whom we are expecting ‘every moment. He sug- 
gested to me the plan of escape, for as an old 
soldier he has had practical experience of such 
matters with prisoners of war ; and at the last 
moment he will be present himself, and will be 
particularly useful in superintending all the de- 
tails of the delicate operation.” 

“ Excuse me, Mr. Harmsen,” said the Hollander, 
“ for seeming impertinent, but during the last day 
or two I have heard you speak more than once of 
a Major Gapertz. Was he not originally of Eg- 
mond, in North Holland ? and did he rise from a 
common soldier to his present rank as major?” 

“ It is the same. Do you know him ?” inquired 
Harmsen. 

“ I served in his command during the siege of 
Steenwyk. My duties brought me in close attend- 
ance upon his person ; in fact, I was quartered with 


MEMORIES OF THE PAST. 


365 


him in the same place — an old mill outside the 
walls which was afterward demolished by the 
artillery of the besieged.^^ 

Your mention of the old mill,” said Walter 
Harmseu, brings to my mind a woman by the 
name of Aalt ; Aalt van Steenwyk she was called 
when I met her. Did you know any such per- 
son ?” 

Oh yes, very well,” answered the farmer ; 
she was employed as housemaid by the family 
that lived in the mill. The family all fled when 
the cannon were being directed upon the mill, but 
she in some way contrived to hide herself in the 
cellar; and when the siege was over, she emerged 
unhurt. She had found ample sustenance in the 
full larder beneath.” 

Then it must have been in this way that she 
knew of the murder of the little child’s nurse and 
could become so useful in restoring, Antoine to his 
mother. How the thought of these things brings 
back the memory of the happy days when that 
reunion between mother and sou was consummated ! 
— Do you remember, Mr. Paedts, what interest and 
delight the excellent St. Aldegonde took in this 
event, and how pleased he was that these first days 
of recovered joys should have been spent at his 
house ?” 

Yes,” replied Mr. Paedts, and it was not long 
before the time of his death that these events took 


366 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


place. How soon afterward did he pass to his rest 
above ?” * 

Scarcely two months,” answered Walter. It 
was on the fifteenth of Decmber, 1598 ; I was 
present when he died. His leavetaking from his 
relatives was very touching and impressive. His 
son Jacob followed him to the grave very shortly 
after.” 

^^And does not Lady Veronica, Baron Jacob’s 
widow, now live at The Hague?” asked Dirk 
Brocks. 

She does. Lord St. Aldegonde owned a house 
in Leyden, but after the death of her distinguished 
father-in-law and her husband. Lady Veronica 
fixed her residence with her daughter, Walburg, in 
The Hague. I believe before very long the latter 
is to wed William of Barneveldt, the son of the 
advocate of Holland.” 

Did you not inform me, Mr. Harmsen,” re- 
joined the bookseller, “ that the baroness W alburg 
van Marnix was a devout Christian ? How, then, 
can she consent to marry William of Barneveldt, 
who has the reputation of being a wild character ?” 

“What shall I say?” replied Walter. “I am 
inclined to believe the marriage is not quite to her 
mind, but you know that among people of rank 
matters of that sort are not always arranged as 

*“K4pos ailleurs” was the well-known motto of Marnix St. 
Aldegonde. 


MEMORIES OF THE PAST. 


367 


they should be. Her father was very intimate 
with the advocate from early youth, and they 
pledged their children to each other while these 
were still almost babes.” 

She too was greatly interested in Antoine Mo- 
reau while he was still under ward of the major, 
was she not?” said Mr. Paedts. 

Yes, and she was partly instrumental in the 
restoration of mother and child to each other. 
Her letters to Baroness Jacoba van Vlooswyk were 
full of little Walburgius, for at baptism her name 
had been given to the little foundling. Hence, 
when Lady, Jacoba met Madame Moreau in 
Flanders, it at once struck her that this child and 
this lady’s lost son might be identical, and thus she 
felt the more encouraged to urge her to accompany 
her. How strangely,” continued Walter, pensively, 
as if communing with himself, although speaking 
so as to be heard — ‘^how strangely, while we are 
here assembled in his cause and are willing to risk 
so much, have we been led to speak of the persons 
who were interested in Antoine’s boyhood days or 
Avere instrumental in restoring him to his mother ! 
Was it not a mysterious providence that he, as a 
child severed from his parents, exposed to death, 
should have been saved, carefully nurtured and 
afterward restored to mother and home? And to 
what purpose has it been? To grow to young 
manhood, to be marked by God as one of his 


368 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


precious ones, to be called upon to witness a good 
confession in the face of persecution and death. 
In those early days his life was saved that his soul 
might be enriched with Christ\s great salvation. 
His life was saved, but it was saved that he might 
die a hero of the faith. He was saved, but saved 
for martyrdom 

The deep seriousness of the tone of voice in 
which these words were spoken, and the wonderful 
course of God’s providence to which they called 
attention, produced a feeling of awe and reverence 
which for several minutes hushed all conversation. 

You spoke a few moments ago,” said the Hol- 
lander, at the end of that time, ^^of a baroness 
Jacoba van Vlooswyk : is that the same lady of 
whom Joris Ruikmans has told me so much? He 
served in her family, I believe, when he was in 
Utrecht.” 

It is the same,” replied Walter; ^‘she has 
lived for many years in France. But, speaking of 
Joris, have you heard from him lately?” 

But very little,” replied the farmer ; I only 
know that he was ready to quit the prison-work at 
any moment.” 

Then I must have later information,” said 
Dirk Broeks ; I have learned that he will try 
and leave it to-morrow night.” 

He will find that rather difficult,” said the 
Hollander. He is under suspicion and is watched, 


MEMORIES OF THE PAST. 369 

and has not been able Lately to get permission to 
visit my house.” 

Friend Joris is not the man to be easily dis- 
couraged, however,” said Harmsen ; I would not 
be surprised to see him among us to-morrow night. 
He knows of our project?” 

“Certainly,” replied Dirk Broeks, “and I be- 
lieve he will try to join us. But hark ! what is 
that?” 

The hoofs of a horse stepping upon the hard, 
gravelly ground of the door-yard were plainly 
heard. 

That must be the major,” said the friends to 
each other. 

We have already seen that it was, to judge by 
their exclamations. When seated among them, he 
told how he had ridden direct from Ostende accom- 
panied by well-armed and brave disguised soldiers 
who if there were need would show the hirelings 
of the Inquisition that they bore stout Holland 
hearts about with them. 

Florentius Digo encountered nothing further 
that night; he determined to achieve more the 
next. 


24 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


BETWEEN HEAVEN AND EARTH. 

T he clock of the bishop’s prison sounded its 
twelve deep strokes, and thus announced the 
hour of midnight. Everything appeared to be 
plunged in the profoundest repose. Upon the 
court of the prison the sentry was rapidly walking 
back and forth, to counteract the influence of the 
cold, freezing air. In the guard-room a bright 
fire diffiised warmth and cheer, and the soldiers sat 
or lounged about the hearth, some playing games 
of chance, while Joris assiduously went the rounds 
with the wine-can and poured out its contents in 
generous measure. An hour later the soldiers 
of the watch experienced the effects of these po- 
tations, for several lay unconscious upon the floor 
and many were not able to walk. Joris, however, 
managed to abstain, although appearing to join in 
the bout. He kept an eye upon the bunch of keys 
in charge of the subaltern officer which would af- 
ford means of opening the gates of the courtyard 
and the wicket of the drawbridge. An hour after 
midnight on the other side of the moat Joris was 
walking away from the prison. 

370 


BETWEEN HEAVEN AND EARTH. 371 

Meanwhile, Antoine Moreau was seated upon 
the stone bench in his cell. Sleep was out of 
the question. His eyes were uninterruptedly fixed 
upon the opening in the wall opposite, from which 
the bars had been removed. Only an occasional 
star was visible in the heavens, and no other sound 
was heard than the rushing of the winter wind. 
The prisoner had no certainty that he would receive 
any communication from his friends, and yet some- 
thing within him seemed to warrant the presenti- 
ment of speedy release. He prayed that he might 
not be disappointed in this expectation, and that he 
might be granted the needed strength to second the 
efforts of his friends if they should attempt to 
rescue him this night; for he was very weak and 
reduced almost to a skeleton by starvation. He 
was so thin that when the time a})proached for the 
jailer’s visit he could easily slip the chain over his 
wrist without opening the clasp as before ; he was 
so feeble that it cost him the greatest exertion to 
remove the image of the Virgin whenever required. 
He had* laid himself down upon his straw for a few 
hours during the earlier part of the night, but no 
sleep had visited his eyelids. Hunger and thirst, 
cold and pain, had driven him from his bed of 
straw. He had run about to and fro like a hunted 
deer to restore warmth to his chilled frame, and 
finally he had seated himself upon the bench, in 
the hope that the Lord would send speedy relief. 


372 


TEE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


The prison clock strikes one. The next instant 
Antoine hears the familiar sound against the outer 
wall. He rises and approaches the aperture. Again 
the wall is struck, and the object falls into the 
water. He lifts his eyes devoutly to heaven in a 
silent prayer for help, and a few moments later 
something drops upon the middle of the floor. He 
stoops to pick it up, and discovers it to be a bundle 
with a stout rope attached. He pulls at the rope, 
as he was accustomed to do with the others, but 
finds he can draw only, part of it toward him, for 
it seems to be held or secured at the other end. 
This puzzles him. He accordingly opens the 
bundle, expecting to receive hereby an explanation 
of this novel course on the part of his friends. As 
he removes the covers a small piece of candle and 
materials for striking a light lie before him, and, a 
piece of paper covered with writing catching his 
eye at the same time, he at once comprehends the 
design of his friends. He lights the candle and 
reads as follows : 

“Fasten the rope-ladder to the stoutest portion 
of the rope just now thrown to you; secure the 
ladder to some object in your cell. The other end 
of the rope is in our hands. Climb up to the 
opening by means of the ladder, and force your- 
self through. Next slide along the rope across the 
water to the opposite shore, where you will find 
friends waiting to receive you. The Lord be with 


BETWEEN HEAVEN AND EARTH. 373 

you ! Make all possible haste. Everything is in 
readiness on our part.’’ 

God,” sighed Antoine, ^G)e thou indeed with 
me ! If it be thy will that I safely reach my 
friends, I shall thank thee fervently. If thou 
deem it necessary to my welfare and the glory of 
thy name that my enemies triumph over me, give 
me a humble and submissive heart to resign my- 
self to all that thou hast determined to do with 
me.” 

The prisoner now addressed himself to the task 
before him. He was on the point of fastening the 
rojie-ladder around the firm base of the stone bench, 
when the thought struck him that even should he 
suc-ceed in passing through the aperture he would 
nevertheless be too weak to let himself down the 
rope hand over hand to the other side ; he deter- 
mined, therefore, to make use of the pieces of rope 
collected within the body of the holy image. He 
took them thence, and after doubling and tying them 
together he found he had enough to go around his 
body and to form a loop, through which he slipped 
the rope-ladder and the rope that was to aid his 
descent; thus, in case his strength gave out, he 
could rest himself by bearing his weight on this 
girdle of cord around his body, which was quite 
sufficient to hold him. He now fastened the rope- 
ladder to the bench and by its means, climbed up 
with considerable ease to the opening in the wall, 


374 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


but here met the first difficulty of his venture. 
The aperture but just afibrds room for his head to 
pass easily through ; his shoulders seem to form an 
insurmountable obstruction to his passage. On 
account of the severity of the night he had wrapped 
himself in his mantle, but it is out of the question 
for him to retain this comfortable covering : it 
must be cast aside. When divested of this, he 
succeeds, by much twisting and turning, in getting 
his shoulders outside. But now he perceives that 
it would have been better if he had removed his in- 
ner garment too. Yet what is to be done? In the 
position in which he now is he can neither retreat 
nor go on ; he therefore for a few moments ceases to 
struggle, and prays earnestly for further help. 
Then, with strength somewhat refreshed, he ad- 
dresses himself once more to the desperate attempt. 
He braces his feet and knees against the sides of 
the opening ; he twists and turns and struggles with 
the energy of despair. He moves; the obstacle 
of the garment gives away. A few more jerks 
of the whole body, and, God be praised ! he is 
clear of the opening. He clutches the rope with 
both hands and lets himself down with great care- 
fulness, but, as he had supposed, he cannot very 
long sustain even his slight weight; he is com- 
pelled to rest one of his arms at a time, and finds 
the loop of great assistance for such a purpose. 
Ere long he reaches a point where he sees that he is 


BETWEEN HEAVEN AND EARTH. 375 

suspended over about the middle of the moat. A 
sudden fear now paralyzes his highly-wrought 
nerves, weakened by bodily suffering. Can he ever 
reach the other side? Beneath, the depth affrights 
him ; above, he sees nothing but the sky. He 
perceives no sign of his friends, although by the 
shaking of the rope at the lower end he knows that 
some are expecting him. Notwithstanding that it 
is very cold, a profuse perspiration breaks out over 
all his frame. He feels he is in a situation of great 
peril, and that feeling of dread overpowers every 
other. 

And surely the situation of Antoine was a crit- 
ical one. In spite of the efforts of his fiiends 
to prevent it, the fierce wintry blast swung the 
rope with its light burden to and fro, and seemed 
to be endeavoring to shake him off like a leaf from 
its stem. Holding on for dear life with both hands, 
the poor youth could hardly have prevented this 
had he not thought of the precaution of the loop. 
Yet even the latter gave him much trouble, for the 
rope was not in one continuous piece, but had been 
made up of several pieces tied in great knots to- 
gether, and every knot was an obstruction which 
could be overcome only with difficulty. The swing- 
ing of the rope, too, was beginning to make An- 
toine sick and dizzy, and only with the most deter- 
mined self-restraint could he keep himself from 
losing consciousness. This, however, could not 


376 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


last long. His strength was nearly exhausted ; 
the next obstacle the loop encounters deprives him 
of what remains. The powerless hands refuse 
their hold upon the rope ; uttering a cry of terror, 
he sinks back, and hangs only by the loop. He 
becomes senseless. He glides along a little farther 
until the next knot is reached, and then remains 
stationary, suspended between heaven and earth. 

At the same instant a pistol-shot rings out upon 
the night-air, followed by a second, a third; the 
rolling of a drum is heard. Antoine is oblivious 
to all this, unconscious of the dangers that are 
thickening all around him. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE JESUIT ASSAULTED. 

U PON the evening of the same day, preceding 
the occurrences related in the previous chap- 
ter, Florentius Digo, wrapped in a dark-brown 
cloak, left the mill and penetrated the forest that 
stretched from the vicinity of the castle of Leers 
until far in the direction of Tournay. Here, at an 
appointed place, he encountered a number of soldiers 
with their officer. After giving them the necessary 
directions and having convinced himself of their 
readiness to carry out the desires of the Inquisition, 
he took the road to the north, and after proceeding 
about a mile met another division of the soldiers 
of the Inquisition, back of the Hollander’s house. 
The Jesuit informed the officer that he intended to 
conceal himself near the house, and appointed for 
the signal at which he was to come to his aid a 
pistol-shot repeated twice in quick succession. 

The officer objected to Digo’s trusting himself 
singly in the vicinity, perhaps in the very midst, of 
his enemies. The remonstrance was answered with 
a smile by the fearless Jesuit, and, drawing a brace 

377 


378 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


of pistols from beneath his cloak, he showed them 
to the officer, adding that he trusted to the assistance 
of the Virgin Mary. He urged the officer, also, to 
place sentries in several places through the forest, 
charging them not to allow any one from Tour- 
nay to pass without giving the watchword. 

At about half-past eleven on the same night 
two persons were approaching the village of Leers 
from the direction of the city of Courtray. One 
of these seemed to be wholly unacquainted with 
these parts and depended for guidance upon the 
other, who assured him that in former years he had 
so frequently gone over the road between Courtray 
and Tournay that he could trust himself to find the 
way on a night even much darker than the present. 
When near Leers, one of them said, 

I twust, Mr. Melchiow, that we shall soon come 
upon a good inn, for as twuly as my name is 
Willebwowdus Gwootlmwwelbwink I am as cold 
as ice. Methinks a glass of hot spiced beew 
would do us good. Do you know of any inn 
neaw here?^' 

I think I do,” was the reply. If the one in 
Leers that I used to stop at is still in existence, 
we shall soon be there.” 

That is good,” said the first speaker, for I 
am as tired as an overworked horse. But, accord- 
ing to what you said, we cannot be far from the 
end of our journey. I wonder if we will meet that 


THE JESUIT ULTED. 


379 


arch-deceiver to-morrow ? If we can only find out 
where he keeps himself at this time ! If we find 
him, the Conrtray ddctow will know that he has 
got me to deal with.” 

^‘I wish nothing better,” said the whilom apothe- 
cary, than to catch the rascal. I have made a 
vow that I will not cut my hair in ten years if I 
can have my revenge for his treatment of me.” 

Melchior’s fellow-traveler laughed inaudibly, and 
thought, “ The old miser will not devote even a 
small candle to the Virgin, but vows what will not 
cost him any money, and cannot give him much 
trouble, either, with his bald pate.” 

You stick to our agreement,” continued Mel- 
chior, ‘^to surprise Florentius Digo and force him 
to pay us what he owes, or else give him such a 
thrashing as he will not soon forget?” 

Certainly. We must surprise him,” assented 
Brordus. I will make him pay me for the month 
or two that I went every morning upon the road to 
Voorschoteu for him, and he will have to pay us, 
too, for all the trouble we have had in getting here. 
But they told us in Courtray that we would find 
this doctow in Touruay. How far is Leers from 
Tournay ?” 

If I remember right, about six or seven miles. 
After passing the village w^e enter a forest, which 
reaches nearly to the city ; then we cross a stream 
which surrounds the place. If once we get in the 


380 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


town, we will soon obtain all the information we 
want, for I have several relatives and friends living 
there. But here we are at the village. Now for 
the inn and a little rest.^^ 

When Brordus and Melchior had partaken of 
the cheer which they had promised themselves, 
they left the inn and proceeded on their way to 
Touruay. As Melchior had said, on leaving the 
village the road entered the forest. It was very 
dark here, and Brordus would have preferred to 
return to the inn if Melchior had not assured him 
that he knew every inch of the way and could see 
in the dark almost as well as by daylight. Accord- 
ingly, the curious pair held on their course, al- 
though not without coming into occasional contact 
with trees whose limbs hung too low or whose 
trunks were near the edge of the road. Melchior 
calculated that it must be about half-past one, and 
that they would reach Tournay about three. 

Suddenly, at a point where the road made a 
sharp turn, the travelers were confronted by a 
man wrapped in a dark cloak. 

Who are you,” inquired he, “ and what is the 
watchword ?” 

Melchior staggered back a few paces on hearing 
this man’s voice. Brordus also was greatly startled, 
but, soon recovering his presence of mind, he re- 
marked lightly, 

“ Here we actually have our Courtway doctow ! 


THE JESUIT ASSAULTED. 


381 


Well, now ! this is weally strange. — Did yon know 
we were looking for you ? Then you surely must 
be weady to pay me for my walks to Voorschoten.” 

And to pay me the twenty-five florins out of 
which you cheated me so shamelessly,” added 
Melchior, whose fury in the presence of his enemy 
knew no bounds as he remembered the treatment 
he had received at his hands on the night of his 
departure. 

I do not know you,” said Florentius Digo, 
without a moment’s hesitation. 

Well, now, this is a pretty thing to tell us !” 
said Brordus. Have you forgotten that my name 
is Willebwowdus Gwoothuwwelbwink ? that I 
used to brush your shoes and clothes? that for 
months I went up the road to Yoorschoten for 
you ? that I — ” 

‘^And that you cheated me out of twenty-five 
florins,” interrupted Melchior, ‘^and bound me 
so shamefully and left me lying out-doors ? Do 
you still dare to persist in saying that you do not 
know us?” 

You are mistaken in my person,” said Floren- 
tius, coolly, taking a step or two backward. It 
is possible that my voice resembles that of the man 
you have in mind, but I do not remember ever 
having met you before.” 

‘^No, you treacherous reptile!” rejoined Mel- 
chior, furiously ; you shall not succeed in throw- 


382 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


ing us off the scent by your bold denials. If you 
do not recognize myself and your former servant, 
we have no trouble in recognizing you. Say he 
continued, approaching him and pulling him by 
the cloak; ^^do you not know me — me, Melchior 
van Wallef’ 

Digo made no answer. He had placed his right 
hand under his cloak and was drumming upon one 
of the pistols in his belt. 

Melchior, whose wrath increased the longer 
Florentius kept silent, shook the Jesuit by the 
shoulder and hissed into his ear : 

“ Dare you any longer deny that you are Flo- 
rentius Digo ? or are you afraid, now that you feel 
yourself helpless against the two of us?’’ 

No answer. 

“ I request you kindly,” said Brordus, who kept 
cool while his companion became more and more 
excited, ‘Ho draw your purse and give us what is 
rightly ours. If you do that, you may call your- 
self what you like and we will return home at 
once.” 

“ I am not in the habit of granting the requests 
of highwaymen,” said Florentius, as unmoved as 
ever. 

“ What ! ‘ highwaymen ’ ?” cried Brordus. “ Do 
you call us names as well as cheat us out of our 
money ? I will teach you better than that ?” and, 
pushing Melchior aside, he was about to throw him- 


THE JESUIT ASSAULTED. 


383 


self upon the Jesuit, when the latter drew his 
pistol and said in a tone of command, 

^^Back, villains, or'I will shoot you dead 

I will prevent that f’ cried Brordus, who threw 
himself upon the ground and with a movement 
quick as thought caught the Jesuit’s legs from 
beneath him and hurled him upon his back. 

Catch the rascal by the throat, Mr. Melchior,” 
shouted the weaver. 

The whilom apothecary was not slow to follow 
this advice, but suddenly started back, as the 
Jesuit fired the pistol in falling. 

He has hit me,” cried Melchior, grasping his 
arm. 

So much the more right have you to revenge 
yourself,” said Brordus, who lay with his whole 
length upon the Jesuit and held one of his hands. 

Hold the fellow or he will jump up again.” 

He shall not escape us,” cried Melchior ; and, 
forgetting his wound, he also threw himself upon 
Florentius, as he perceived that he let fall one 
pistol to grasp the other. 

At this moment another shot was fired in the 
vicinity. 

Ha ! you are in my power!” exclaimed the 
Jesuit, who made desperate efforts to shake off his 
assailants. That shot announces the approach of 
my defenders. — Help ! help ! Here I am ! Here !” 

Melchior and Brordus listened a moment. A 


384 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


musket-shot was heard, but from an entirely dif- 
ferent direction. 

“ Help ! help f ^ screamed Florentius Digo. 

Wait, villain !’’ said Melchior, whose arm 
began to give him pain, and whose thirst for 
vengeance was rather whetted than satisfied by 
events thus far — wait ! I will teach you to keep 
quiet and he struck the Jesuit in the face with 
both fists and with all his might, while Brordus 
compressed his throat. 

Melchior, however, thought even this punish- 
ment too slight a return for the injury done to him; 
he was like a tiger that grows more ferocious the 
more blood he scents. He forced the pistol from 
the hand of the Jesuit and struck him one or two 
blows across the forehead. Florentius soon aban- 
doned all elforts to defend himself, and his blood- 
stained head sank unconscious upon the sand. 

Like two famished wolves the confederates fell 
upon their prey and dragged him to some distance 
from the public road, hoping there to rob him of 
whatever money he might have about his person. 
This purpose, however, they were prevented from 
accomplishing. To their consternation, confused 
voices were heard close by and in every direction. 

This way !’’ cried one who seemed to exercise 
command over the others. “ This way, men ! 
From this direction the pistol-shot was heard.” 

With your permission, captain,” said another. 


THE JESUIT ASSAULTED. 


385 


the two shots came from different directions, and 
we were told not to move till two shots were fired 
in quick succession. ' But hark ! There is another 
shot, and near the city. And again another 

‘^Forward, men !’’ commanded the officer. Forces 
seem to be marching upon the piece of woods back 
of the prison from the other side of the river also ; 
I believe, therefore, that our presence is needed, 
signal or no signal.’’ 

The soldiers seemed to be approaching the road 
from the other side, and would pass near where 
Brordus and Melchior lay hid with their victim. 
The roll of a drum was heard in the distance. 

Forward !” was again commanded by the officer. 

We will encounter the superior of the Inquisition 
somewhere.” 

Melchior and Brordus had no time to lose. As 
stealthily as they could they crept through the 
leafless underbrush, and were soon at a safe distance 
from the line of march of the soldiers. The latter 
proceeded on their advance, which was necessarily 
slow, on account of the excessive darkness. 

Suddenly a halt was called. 

What does this mean?” inquired the officer. 

Here lies a man upon the ground.” 

Some man, perhaps, who has lost his way and 
has fallen asleep.” 

No ; he is groaning, and I feel blood flowing 
down his forehead.” 


25 


386 THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 

The officer approached the spot. 

Who are you ?” he asked. 

I am Florentius Digo,” groaned the wounded 
man. 

On hearing this reply the officer was greatly 
startled, and commanded a few of the soldiers to 
carry the Jesuit to the city. Having made a rude 
litter of the branches, the soldiers placed the Jesuit 
upon it, and then the whole band moved on and 
reached the edge of the forest about the time that 
Antoine uttered his cry and sank back, to hang 
senseless from the loop. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

ANTOINE REACHES HIS FRIENDS. 

TN the little piece of woods opposite the bishop’s 
prison there were a number of persons. It was 
at a distance of about two miles from the forest in 
wliich took place the occurrences narrated in the 
preceding chapter. A small band of soldiers en- 
circled it on the outskirts ; they had come to these 
parts by twos and threes, and were now under the 
command of Major Gapertz. A few men stood 
beside a wagon to which was attached a powerful 
horse. A profound silence was observed by all, 
and, except for an occasional whisper, nothing was 
heard but the howling of the wind. 

At the edge of this wood, on the bank of the 
stream which here formed part of the prison-moat, 
and almost directly opposite the cell of Antoine 
Moreau, stood a large old tree around whose trunk 
was wound a stout rope. Not until the eye had 
become somewhat accustomed to the darkness could 
it be perceived that this rope was connected with 
the air-hole of the cell, but it could readily be seen 
that collected about the tree were a few persons who 


388 


TEE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


from time to time kept tightenio^ the rope. These 
persons were Walter Harmsen, Dirk Broeks, John 
Paedts, the Hollander and two of his men. 

“ I feel a motion,” whispered Walter Harmsen, 
who kept one hand on the rope. He must have 
secured the rope-ladder, and is now climbing up to 
the opening. Do you see anything of him yet?” 

‘‘Not yet,” was the reply, also in whispers. 
“ But yes ! now I think I see him putting his head 
outside. It must be hard for him to get through.” 

All eyes turned to the aperture, and every hand 
w’as laid upon the rope to increase its tension, so as 
to make the descent easier. 

“See! he is partly through, but something 
checks him. Can he have been detected?” ex- 
claimed Mr. Paedts. 

“ Hush ! softly !” whispered the Hollander. “ If 
you love our lives and the life of the fugitive, you 
must not speak aloud.” 

“Pardon me,” said Paedts; “but the fear that 
even in the last moment our endeavors might be 
frustrated made me forget all prudence.” 

For a few moments all held their breath, seeing 
that Antoine made no movement and fearing that 
Paedts’s apprehension might be a true one. But 
soon their fears were relieved, when, after a few 
more struggles, Antoine was seen to clear the wall 
and to be suspended from the rope. The shaking 
of the rope indicated that the youth was gliding 


ANTOINE REACHES HIS FRIENDS. 389 


toward them, and by the advice of Walter Harm- 
sen the wagon was directed to come nearer. 

Suddenly a cry was heard. Hastening to the 
water’s edge, Antoine Moreau was seen hanging 
with head and arms and legs dangling over the 
stream. At first the rescuers did not comprehend 
how he could remain in this position, but the Hol- 
lander surmised at once that he was held by a loop 
around the rope. While they were consulting 
what was best to be done and were overwhelmed 
with anxiety for the fate of their beloved friend, 
tliey were surprised by the arrival of Joris Ruik- 
mans. The manikin was carrying a flask of wine, 
which he thought might come in good stead to 
quicken Antoine, as it had before done good ser- 
vice in putting the guard to sleep. In few words 
he informed them that he had left the prison for 
good and all. He was soon told of the existing 
state of affairs. 

“ I know what is to be done,” he said. Draw 
the rope as taut as you can. There must be a loop 
holding him up in that way, and it has been stopped 
by one of the knots ; I will go and see if I can lift 
him over it.” 

In spite of the darkness the little man climbed 
up to the spot where Antoine hung suspended. A 
few minutes later Joris returned and informed the 
anxious friends that Antoine was unconscious, that 
he hung by a loop, as they had supposed, and that 


390 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


he had in vain tried to lift it over the knot that 
kept him from sliding down. But one of two 
things remained to be done — either to unwind the 
rope from the tree, let Antoine fall into the water 
and then swim to his rescue, or else to shake the 
rope violently up and down, in the hope that the 
loop would slip over the knot and allow Antoine to 
slide down to the end. The latter method was 
decided upon. Dirk Broeks and the Hollander, 
with his two farm-hands, shook the rope with all 
their might, while Mr. Paedts and Walter knelt 
down and prayed for deliverance and help in 
this almost hopeless situation. But their extrem- 
ity was to become still greater. 

At this instant our friends heard the pistol-shot 
fired by Florentius Digo, followed by a second 
and a third. The three men of the sheriff of Ley- 
den’s secret service came running in breathless 
haste with the tidings that a large band of soldiers 
of the Inquisition was on the march. In the same 
moment approached the covered wagon, attended 
by the detachment of Dutch soldiers, at whose 
head rode Major Gapertz. dlie rolling of the 
drum announced the nearness of the Inquisition 
forces. Fear and anxiety seized upon our friends. 

Walter Harm sen alone retained his self-posses- 
sion. 

The Lord will be with us,’’ he reminded them ; 

his will be done.” 


ANTOINE REACHES HIS FRIENDS. 391 


Shake the rope/' cried Joris. I feel that 
Antoine is gliding toward us." 

A few more vigorous shakes, and slowly the 
senseless frame of the youth glided down. He 
was soon within reach, and all hastened to receive 
him. To cut the rope and to catch the fugitive in 
their arms were the work of but a moment. They 
were carrying him to the wagon, when the woods 
rang with the cry : 

‘^For the Holy Inquisition and the Mother of 
God !" 

For Holland and the cause of the Lord !" 
answered the clarion voice of Major Gapertz, lead- 
ing his men in a sudden charge upon the ajiproach- 
ing band of Inquisition troops, who were provided 
with torches and lamps suspended from sticks. 
These were, however, greatly to the disadvantage 
of those who bore them, as they were thus exposed 
to the view of the Hollanders, whose position and 
numbers could not be well determined by the en- 
emy. Again arose the battle-cries on either side, 
and a fierce conflict began to rage. 

Meantime, Walter Harmsen and his friends had 
succeeded in bearing Antoine to the wagon, where 
he was made as comfortable as circumstances al- 
lowed. Though still senseless, it had been noticed 
that he was alive. Joris poured some wine into 
his mouth and Walter wrapped him in a thick 
cloak ; then the farm-hands were charged to urge 


392 


THE SOLDIER ’S WARD. 


the horse to a gallop and by roundabout roads to 
drive across the borders into France. But this 
was not to be accomplished so easily. The bullets 
flew in every direction, and it did not seem unlikely 
that they were encompassed on all sides and would 
have to yield to superior numbers. 

The forces of the enemy were really much greater 
than those under the command of Major Gapertz ; 
had it not been that the latter depended upon the 
assistance of Providence, he would have deemed it 
madness to engage in so unequal a conflict. Be- 
sides, the uncertainty as to his forces, caused by the 
darkness and the difficulty of manoeuvring a large 
body of men in the woods, gave him advantages 
that were considerable and largely counteracted the 
difference in numbers. Still, the major and his 
men were in a critical position. It was plainly 
evident that the enemy’s plan was to drive them all 
to one point, and then to make them prisoners. 
How should they prevent this design from being 
carried out? It could not be ascertained at what 
point the forces of the enemy were weakest ; never- 
theless, Major Gapertz resolved to cut a way to the 
road to Courtray, in order to allow the fugitive to 
escape in that direction. The whole struggle on 
the side of the Hollandei’s was for the sake of 
saving Antoine Moreau, while the Inquisition, 
knowing nothing as yet of the flight of its victim, 
had no other object than to get into its power all 


ANTOINE REACHES HIS FRIENDS. 393 


the adherents of the Reformation who had here 
been congregating. 

Still the battle raged. Many a Fleming was 
struck down by the vigorous arm of a Holland 
soldier, but occasionally a Hollander fell. Dirk 
Gapertz, seated upon his horse, fought like a lion. 
Wherever he c^me he swung his long sword and 
dealt death to all withiu its reach. But never- 
theless no way could be cut through the ranks of 
the enemy for the passage of the wagon, which 
was still under the guidance of the farm-hands and 
surrounded by our friends. The enemy closed in 
upon the forces on their side with such numbers 
that the way to Courtray seemed hopelessly cut 
off, and thus nothing remained but to try another 
direction. Like a tiger robbed of its prey the 
major hurled his determined little band upon 
another point, and a passage was actually made; 
he called to the friends to follow with the wagon. 
But, alas ! ere the latter could comply a fresh 
supply of troops came, and compelled the major 
to make a desperate fight to secure his retreat. 

In this critical moment the Hollander, his men, 
Walter Harmsen, Mr. Paedts and Joris Ruikmans 
saw no other means of escape than by withdrawing 
to the side of the stream, in the hope of making 
unobserved a circuit around the enemy, and suc- 
ceeded in reaching the watePs edge, and then pro- 
ceeded rapidly in the direction of Tournay. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

THE BATTLE IN THE FOREST. 

HE wagon, with its precious load, had just 



entered the forest which begins near the city 
of Tournay and stretches to Leers, and onr friends 
were congratulating themselves upon being safe at 
last, when they encountered a s(;ore of Flemish 
soldiers with lighted torches. No sooner did these 
come within view of the others than the cry was 
raised, “ A wagon ! a wagon 

Joris Ruikmans heard this cry with consterna- 
tion, and hastily whispered to his companions: 

Yonder comes the superior, Philip Derot; I 
know him by his voice.” 

A wagon ! a wagon !” was repeated on the side 
of the enemy. Detain it ! We will place our 
worthy Florentius Digo in it, and will thus convey 
him more speedily to the city.” 

Immediately do the Flemish soldiers press 
toward the wagon. Behind them are seen a num- 
ber of men who, accompanied by torch-bearers and 
the chief of the Jesuits, are carrying Florentius 
Digo upon a litter made of branches. 


THE BATTLE IN THE FOREST. 


395 


The Holland soldiers who are escorting the 
wagon come to a stand-still. The two servants of 
the Hollander hold the horse under control, while 
the friends of Antoine surround the wagon, deter- 
mined to risk all in its defence. The Flemings 
now observe that the wagon is in possession of their 
enemies, and that an obstinate defence will be made, 
although they do not suspect what are its real 
contents. 

‘^For the Inquisition and the Holy Mother of 
God is the cry under which the Flemings ad- 
vancie to the attack. 

The Hollanders do not reply by calling out their 
battle-cry, but, leveling their muskets, at once pour 
a deadly fire into their opponents’ ranks ; so that 
many a soldier of the Inquisition instantly falls 
dead. 

Upon them ! upon them !” cries the same voice 
which had filled Joris with dread. ^‘Upon them ! 
Every one who kills a heretic receives absolution 
from all his sins, and ten florins besides !” 

We will not determine here which recompense 
of the two nerved the arms of the Flemings; at 
any rate, they pressed with sword and pike upon 
the devoted defenders of the wagon, and forced 
them to yield to superior numbers. 

At this instant Walter Harmsen and the Hol- 
lander spring upon the wagon. 

“ Save our friend ! Save Antoine Moreau !” cries 


396 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


Mr. Paedts, who assists in holding the frightened 
horse. 

‘ Antoine Moreau ’ f ’ exclaims Philip Derot, 
who comes up in the rear of the soldiers. “ Is 
Antoine Moreau in the wagon? — Kill, kill ! Twenty 
florins to him who brings him to me f’ 

Scarcely has Derot thus spoken, when a cannon- 
shot comes booming from the direction of the 
bishop’s prison : it is the signal that a prisoner has 
escaped. Now Philip Derot is convinced that what 
he has heard is a fact ; and when a second and a 
third time a cannon is fired at the prison, he be- 
comes more urgent in his offers of reward to those 
who will deliver Antoine Moreau, alive or dead, 
into his hands. 

Meanwhile, the Hollander has come to the side 
of the fugitive. He wishes to rouse him and aid 
him to escape from the wagon, but the unhappy 
youth is not able to lift himself up ; previous ex- 
haustion from long starvation and the terrible 
experiences of the last few hours have left but a 
S])ark of life within him. The farmer is thus 
compelled to lift him bodily in his arms. The 
weight is nothing to his sturdy strength, yet he 
needs Walter’s aid to reach the ground. With the 
precious burden in his arms he hurries away from 
the melee into the darkness of the forest, but he 
has gone but a few steps when a bullet strikes him 
and he falls to the earth. Walter Harmseu seeks 


THE BATTLE IN THE FOREST 


397 


to aid him, but it is too late : the Hollander has 
been taken away in the midst of his labor of love. 
Greatly as this grieves Walter Harmsen, he cannot 
now abandon himself to regrets. With difficulty 
does he disengage Antoine from the embrace of the 
dead man, lift him into his own arms and pursue 
his way into the forest, followed by Joris Ruik- 
mans and a few of the soldiers to cover his retreat. 
A shower of bullets is sent after them ; one of 
them strikes the manikin, passes through his body 
and pierces his heart. He too has given his life to 
preserve that of his foster-child. He is content 
that it should be thus ; he fears not to die. As he 
falls his last words are. 

Lord, remember me when — ” 

Walter Harmsen has succeeded in penetrating 
into the obscurity of the forest, and is completely 
hid from sight and protected by some thick oak 
trees against danger from stray bullets. The 
wagon has been taken by the Flemish soldiers, and 
the Holland soldiers, with Mr. Paedts, Dirk Broeks 
and the others, have made good their escape in 
another direction. Philip Derot and Father Bene- 
dictus expect to find Antoine Moreau in the wagon, 
but of course are disappointed. They now com- 
mand that the wounded Florentius be comfortably 
disposed within it, and charge some of the soldiers 
to conduct it to the city. But the wagon has not 
gone far when it is stopped by the advancing bands 


398 


THE SOLDIER'S WARD. 


of conflicting friends and enemies. Major Gapertz 
has finally succeeded in forcing a passage through 
the troops that surround the woods back of the 
prison, and the scene of battle is now shifted to 
the forest, where he can fight at still greater ad- 
vantage. 

“For Holland and the cause of the Lord 
shouts the major, collecting his men around him 
and falling with redoubled fury upon the enemy. 
Wherever he dashes with his spirited charger every- 
thing scatters before him ; he is like Gideon fight- 
ing the Midianites. 

The Holland soldiers, fired by the example of 
their commander, exhibit a courage and a strength 
such as astonish the Flemings to the utmost. It 
seems to them that the Hollanders must have been 
reinforced by tenfold their former numbers. An- 
imated by no such high motives to courage and 
perseverance as are the others, they yield to the 
consternation which such a thought is calculated to 
produce, and a panic is soon communicated from 
rank to rank. Suddenly a voice exclaims : “ Flee ! 
flee ! The devil in person fights on their side 
and now the hirelings of the Inquisition run in 
every direction, throwing away muskets, swords, 
pikes and whatever else can hinder them in their 
flight. Major Gapertz pursues them to the edge 
of the forest and makes sure that it is thoroughly 
cleared of the enemy. Philip Derot and Father 


THE BATTLE IN THE FOREST. 399 

Benedictus have long ago left the wagon behind 
them, barely escaping from the hot conflict with 
their lives. The Hollander’s farm-hands recover 
their master’s property in triumph, imagining that 
the wounded person within the wagon is An- 
toine Moreau. 

“Victory! victory!” resounds through the for- 
est. 

Major Gapertz joins in the cry of his men, but 
his thoughts go up to God in thanksgiving and his 
eyes look everywhere for Walter Harmsen. The 
way is now open for a safe retreat to the castle of 
Leers, but till he knows what has become of his 
friend and his former ward the major cannot think 
of doing this. 

At length the day begins to break in the east, for 
which the major has been impatiently watching, in 
order to institute a thorough search for Harmsen and 
the others. He encounters Mr. Paedts and Dirk 
Broeks, who inform him that Walter Harmsen 
succeeded in bearing Antoine away from the wagon 
before it was captured by the enemy. He des- 
patches soldiers in every direction, and the forest- 
echoes repeat the cries : “ Walter Harmsen ! An- 
toine Moreau !” 

Suddenly there appear before the major and his 
victorious band, starting from some undergrowth 
at the side of the road, two men of whom it is 
apparent that they belong to the soldiery of nei- 


400 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


ther the Inquisition nor tlie Hollanders. They are 
entirely unarmed and run breathlessly toward the 
major. 

Are you looking for Mr. Walter Harmsen ?” 
says one of them, bowing low before the major. 

Mr. Harmsen lies yonder under a twee, and 
Antoine Moweau is with him.” 

We discovered them a little while ago,” adds 
the other, whose arm is bound up in a bandage, 
‘^and, since we perceived that one of them was 
dying, we came hither to seek help.” 

^^Show us the way,” cried Major Gapertz ; ^^but 
woe to you if you deceive us !” 

The major called his men together, and, followed 
by the wagon, they proceeded in the direction 
pointed out by Brordus and Melchior. A sad 
spectacle was revealed as the liglit of day increased 
and they could look upon the results of the late 
struggle. Arms and extinguished torches littered 
the ground ; everywhere lay the bodies of soldiers, 
both Flemings and Hollanders. Such of the latter 
as showed signs of life were lifted into the wagon, 
to be temporarily cared for at the castle and after- 
ward transferred to a place of safety. Gladly would 
the major have performed similar acts of mercy 
for the wounded on the side of the enemy, but this 
was out of the question : he surmised that the 
Jesuits might at any moment despatch fresh troops 
from Ton may, in order both to regain possession 


THE BATTLE IN THE FOREST. 


401 • 


of the escaped prisoner and to capture his libera- 
tors. 

A sad duty remained to the farmer’s men. They 
had found the lifeless body of their master, and not 
far from it that, also, of Joris Ruikmans. They 
were about to place these upon the wagon, in or- 
der to bury them in the village cemetery, when infor- 
mation reached them that some of the hirelings of 
the Inquisition had set on fire the Hollander’s 
house, and that house and barn and all had been 
destroyed. They judged it best, therefore, to con- 
ceal the bodies in the forest, and at a more con- 
venient time to come and bury them where they 
lay. 


CHAPTER XL. 

TOGETHER IN DEATH. 

M ajor GAPERTZ and Us men followed the 
whilom tools of the Jesuit, who conducted 
them for some distance along the highway and then 
into the depths of the forest. There, at the foot 
of a large tree, lay the unfortunate Antoine Moreau. 
Walter Harmsen, although himself exhibiting signs 
of utter exhaustion, was kneeling by Antoine’s 
side, and at the moment that the major’s company 
approached it was at once apparent to all that Wal- 
ter was praying aloud. All instinctively bared the 
head, and several of the soldiers were so touched 
by the unexpected scene that they too sank upon 
their knees. Major Gapertz remained seated upon 
his horse, on account of his infirmity, but he bowed 
his head low upon the saddle. 

When Walter rose, the friends and soldiers drew 
nearer, and it was but too evident that Antoine 
Moreau was dying. He stretched out his hands 
to Walter and said, 

“ I thank you for your brotherly love. The 

402 


TOGETHER IN DEATH. 


403 


Lord vouchsafes me a great blessing that I may 
die in your arms.” 

In the arms of Jesus, beloved brother,” Wal- 
ter gently corrected him. 

Yes, in the arms of Jesus. He brings me into 
the kingdom of his glory, but you brought me to 
him, and to my last moment on -earth you show me 
your love, in spite of my unfaithfulness. But 
Jesus is full of grace; oh, when shall I be with 
him ? Then—” 

^^Then,” continued Walter, seeing that the youth 
could not go on — then shall you behold his glory 
and the glory prepared by God for you through his 
Son ; then shall you dwell in that city with pearly 
gates and streets of gold. No tear shall trickle 
down your cheek, into your heart no sin shall enter, 
no enemy shall oppress you. Jesus shall be your 
everlasting joy and comfort. Jesus — ” 

^Jesus’ !” repeated the dying youth, raising his 
broken vision toward heaven. Yes, Jesus ! For 
him my soul yearns as the hart panteth after the 
water-brooks. Nothing ties me to this earth. My 
mother ! I trust I shall meet her with Jesus. My 
sister ! Ah ! I know not how to reach her heart. 
The Lord forgive her what she has done to me. 
No, nothing binds me, for even you — I shall soon 
meet you in heaven. But thank these friends — 
these brave soldiers — for all they have risked on 
my behalf. My guardian, the major — how he has 


404 


THE SOLDIER *S WARD. 


battled ! Like a father for his son. May God 
reward him !” 

Walter Harmsen motioned to his friend, and the 
major immediately alighted from his horse and 
with the aid of one of the soldiers came to the side 
of the dying Antoine and knelt there, taking the 
youth’s hand in his own. 

This is the major himself, dear Antoine,” said 
Walter. 

Antoine pressed the veteran’s hand to his lips 
and repeated the words of gratitude which he had 
just spoken to Walter. 

The major was deeply moved, and said, 

^^For what, dear boy, was it that I took you to 
my heart so mauy years ago ? Why should your 
life have been spared, when it has been filled with 
so much sorrow and misery in these years of your 
dawning manhood?” 

“Oh, speak not thus,” interrupted Antoine, 
quickly. “I do not repine; I rejoice in these 
tribulations. They are the earnest of eternal life 
and peace. Praised be God that he counted me 
worthy to bear them ! Never have I regretted 
that you spared my life and saved me for this 
martyrdom.” 

“ The very words,” whispered Mr. Paedts, who 
with Walter was supporting the weak and enfeebled 
form of Antoine — “ the very words you spoke the 
other night.” 


TOGETHER IN DEATH. 


405 


^‘Yes, but I hoped then,” responded Walter, 
" that it might not be a martyrdom unto death.” 

‘^My dear Antoine,” answered the major, ‘^you 
are now very near the crown of life ; farewell till 
we meet before the Saviour’s throne.” 

The major’s voice was choked in tears. 

We have not noticed much, if any, intercourse 
between the major and his former ward while he 
was a refugee in Leyden for his faith. During the 
few weeks that Walter Harmsen was absent on his 
journey Moreau had resolved to keep away from 
all the other persons who had been interested in 
his boyhood until the friend who had seen him as 
a young man could accompany him on the visits 
which should renew the acquaintance. Besides, the 
novel occupation to which he at once put his hand 
in the printing-office of Mr. Paedts taxed all his 
energies and gave him little leisure. When Walter 
returned, we have seen what happened — how the 
very next night Antoine hastened back to his 
destruction. But that the brave veteran cherished 
no ill-will against the youth for his seeming in- 
gratitude or neglect has been amply shown by the 
heroic, self-devoted courage wherewith he fought 
in his behalf. 

Motioning to Walter, the youth signified that he 
had more to say to him. Walter bent his ear close 
to the dying lips, and heard him say, 

I have one wish more.” 


406 


THE SOLDIERS S WARD. 


“ ‘ One wish ’ ?” said Harmsen. Can I satisfy 
it?” 

Antoine Moreau shook his head. 

^^But at least tell me your wish, dear brother,” 
rejoined Walter. Perhaps I can — ” 

“No, you cannot, my friend,” Antoine assured 
him, placing his clammy hand in Walter’s; “but 
Jesus can fulfill that wish. I have prayed much 
for him who has done me the greatest injury. Oh 
that he might learn to know the evil of what he 
thinks his greatest good ! Could I but have seen 
him once more, I would — ” 

“Who is it?” asked Walter Harmsen, half 
guessing what the answer would be. 

“ Florentius Higo,” was the reply. 

“^Florentius Digo’?” repeated Walter. “Do 
you know where he is?” 

Before the youth could reply the attention of the 
bystanders was directed to an entirely different ob- 
ject. A movement was heard within the, covered 
wagon, about which none were thinking at present. 
When some turned to ascertain the cause, they saw, 
to their amazement, a man wrapped in a brown 
cloak, his forehead covered with blood, starting up 
from the bottom and looking wildly about him. 
Soon all eyes were upon him. 

The soldiers who had accompanied the wagon 
aud had sought to defend it against the party wish- 
ing to secure it for Florentius Digo’s benefit now 


TOGETHER IN DEATH. 


407 


recognized the man who was carried on the litter, 
and called out, 

It is Florentius Digo, the wounded Jesuit.” 

Walter Harmsen raised the head of Antoine a 
little higher, and, turning his eyes in the direc- 
tion of the staggering form — for some one had 
assisted the wounded man to descend from the 
wagon — he said, 

There he is, yonder.” 

Where?” asked Antoine, eagerly; for his 
vision was fast failing. 

^^He is coming,” replied Walter. 

At the request of Walter a few of the soldiers 
supported the tottering Jesuit and conducted him 
to Antoine’s side. The excessive loss of blood and 
the severe blows administered by Melchior had 
rendered the lithe and sinewy frame helplessly 
weak, and death seemed not far off. It was an 
impressive incident, this appearance of the Jesuit 
in the midst of the circle of Antoine Moreau’s 
friends and defenders at the moment when the 
youth was dying the death toward which the 
ghastly form conducted to his side had contributed 
so much. But Florentius saw nothing, nor heard : 
he was not conscious what was being done with 
him ; and when he was set upon the ground, next 
to Antoine, he was not aware of the latter’s pres- 
ence. 

Florentius Digo !” cried Walter Harmsen, with 


408 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


trembling voice ; for he was deeply moved at sight 
of this man. 

On hearing his name the Jesuit opened his eyes, 
but had not the strength to keep them open. 

“ Florentius Oigo,” began Walter, again, putting 
his mouth close to the Jesuit’s ear, at your side 
lies one who has made known the wish to see you 
once more. Do you know who he is ?” 

No answer. 

Florentius Digo !” said Antoine Moreau, gently. 

At these words it seemed as if a convulsion had 
seized the Jesuit. He shook and trembled like a 
leaf, opened his eyes, and when he saw Antoine 
lying by his side uttered a feeble moan. 

“ Florentius Digo,” repeated Antoine, I thank 
the Lord that I have met you again before my 
death, for now I can assure you of my forgiveness 
for all that you have done to me. Here is my 
hand in token that I bear you no ill-will.” 

The dying youth stretched out his hand and 
sought to grasp that of the Jesuit. Walter Harm- 
sen took and guided his hand and laid the hand of 
the victim in that of the destroyer. 

Antoine Moreau,” moaned the latter, forgive- 
ness !” He could say no more. He fell back in 
an apparent swoon, but ere long it was but too 
evident that it was death. 

‘‘Now I die in peace,” said Antoine Moreau, 
grasping Walter’s hand. “Oh what great joy 


Together in Death. Page 408. 















TOGETHER IN DEATH. 


409 


possesses the soul that is in Jesus ! See ! yonder 
the light breaks upon my eyes ! I hear songs of 
praise ! Beautiful ! Glorious f ’ In the light of 
the morning sun his face beamed with an expres- 
sion of a heavenly joy. 

^^My dear Antoine,” said Walter, ‘Ghe Lord 
shall wipe away all tears ; no suffering, no moan- 
ing, no crying, no trouble, will there be with 
Jesus — ” 

— oh no!” Antoine interrupted; ‘^nothing 
but glory and light I I see the holy angels — a 
multitude— peoples— kings. Oh how unspeak- 
able !” He let go Walter’s hand, and, stretching 
both arms heavenward, he called, “ Yea — I come 
— Lord Jesus 1” 

Antoine’s head fell upon his breast ; his lips 
still moved slightly, and then he entered upon 
eternity, to unite in the song of thanksgiving with 
all those who had been bought by the blood of tlie 
Lord. 


But a few words will suffice in conclusion. 

Loving and reverent hands buried the two 
bodies side by side and concealed all traces of the 
graves. The friends had need to be in haste, for 
the distant rolling of drums and other signs of 
military preparation warned them of the necessity 
for quitting these regions with all possible expedi- 
tion. Disguised as before, the soldiers quickly 


410 


THE SOLDIER’S WARD. 


scattered, and pursued their journey to the borders 
of the republic by various routes. 

Major Gapertz returned to his home in The 
Hague, where he died at a good old age. Mr. 
John Paedts and Dirk Broeks eventually reached 
Leyden, where the former laid posterity under ob- 
ligations by many a valuable edition issued from 
his press. 

Walter Harmsen did not accompany his friends 
to Holland : he journeyed into France to pay a 
visit to Baroness Jacoba von Vlooswyk. Arrived 
at her residence, he was received with the usual 
cordiality and Christian joy. But he was not per- 
mitted long to enjoy her society. Antoine’s pre- 
sentiment — if such it was — proved correct : he was 
to see his friend again soon. About a week after 
Walter’s arrival he was attacked by a dangerous 
illness, and, although every means that science 
could suggest and wealth could command was 
employed to ward off the fatal termination, earthly 
affection could not prevent the heavenly Love from 
taking him away and conveying him to that city 
which hath foundations, of which God and the 
Lamb are the light, and where all the redeemed 
shine as suns in the kingdom of their Father. 


THE END. 








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